


The Greatest Burden Is Love

by Clowns_or_Midgets, Jadeys_World



Series: Brother Mine [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Archangel Sam Winchester, Chuck is Twisted, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 45,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27555985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clowns_or_Midgets/pseuds/Clowns_or_Midgets, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadeys_World/pseuds/Jadeys_World
Summary: Following the tragic finale to Of All The Burdens I Must Bear, Chuck has the ending he wanted. That’s not enough for him, though. He wants to know what happens next. Dragged back to life against his will, Sam needs to find a way to live with his family in the new role Chuck has carved out for him. This might be even harder than being seen as the devil.Beta: MaggieMay17Pre-readers: VegasGranny & Ncsupnatfan
Series: Brother Mine [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1762171
Comments: 313
Kudos: 137





	1. Chapter 1

woke with a start, his eyes flying open and breath catching in his throat and making him cough. 

He rolled onto his side, and his chest heaved for a moment until he was drawing full breaths. He couldn't hear anything at all; his ears were filled with a hum that wasn’t unlike angel radio. 

He looked around and saw that he was in the library, and he was surrounded. Nick was slumped against the wall, his eyes wide. Mary was standing across from him, her hands over her desperate face. Jack and Castiel stood behind Mary, Castiel’s hands bracing her back, and Rowena was lying still against the wall where she’d hit. 

None of them were looking at Sam with fear or anger. They weren’t looking at him at all; their eyes went right through him. There was confusion on some faces, devastation on others. 

And Dean was missing. 

His ears cleared, and the sounds of the room reached him. Dean was making agonized sounds, and Mary was screaming. 

Terrified of what he was going to see, Sam turned slowly. 

The sight in front of him was horror and confusion. He couldn’t understand what he was seeing.

He could see where he had fallen dead, the ashy wings spread out on the floor behind, but Sam’s body wasn’t lying there now. It was clutched against Dean’s chest, and he was rocking it, crying, “Sammy, no! Please, Sammy, I’m sorry.”

A strange thrill of electricity swept through Sam. Dean was calling him Sammy. Did he remember? Had this been Chuck’s loophole? Would Sam be remembered just in time to die? It was perfectly cruel. Sam wasn’t the only one being punished now; Dean was suffering, too. 

If he had Chuck in front of him now and that gun in his hand, he would aim for the head. 

Nick pushed away from the wall and got to his feet, stumbling slightly. Castiel watched for a moment and then gestured for Jack to replace him supporting Mary. Jack put his arm around her, and Castiel went to Nick, steadying him with a hand on the shoulder, and then reached for his temple. 

Nick pushed his hand away. 

“Nick…” Castiel said sorrowfully. “Please, let me heal you.”

“No,” Nick moaned. “I deserve this.” 

Nick shoved past Castiel and staggered to Dean then dropped down beside him. He reached out a hand and touched Sam’s head where it was cradled against Dean’s chest. “Sammy,” he whispered. 

“I killed him,” Dean moaned. “I killed my own little brother…”

Mary walked away from Jack and moved to join Nick. She knelt down in the remains of Sam’s wings and touched Dean’s cheek. 

He stopped rocking Sam and fixed his eyes on Mary’s. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he said. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I thought…” A sob bubbled up his throat, and he buried his face in Sam’s hair. 

“We’ve got to do something,” Nick said desperately. 

The incongruity of the scene reached Sam at last. Dean remembered, he said so, and the way he was holding Sam made it clear that he felt the connection again, but Nick was upset, too. He shouldn't be upset. If he remembered, he should be running. Dean would kill him.

Even without knowing what Nick had tried to do to Sam, how the fight had come about, Dean would kill Lucifer in a heartbeat. There were weapons there, two archangel blades, but nobody was reaching for them. Somehow, Nick was still Dean’s brother.

So, what did that make Sam?

Realization dawned on Sam, finally. They remembered something, but it wasn’t the full truth. This wasn’t the end of Chuck’s plan. This was just the next step. The fact that Sam was still there, an unseen observer to it all instead of in The Empty, reinforced the fact. 

“What can we do?” Mary asked, wiping her wet face with her sleeve and wrapping her tremoring arms around her middle. 

“Rowena!” Nick said, turning hopefully to the witch that was stirring on the floor. “Rowena, wake up!”

“I don’t think…” Castiel shook his head and crossed the room to her. He pressed his fingers to her forehead and then hauled her to her feet. “You have to help,” he urged. 

Rowena looked around, her brows furrowed and eyes blank. “I don’t understand. He’s dead? Why are you…” She looked at Jack, who was the only other person who wasn’t obviously emotionally affected by the scene. “What’s going on?”

Jack bit his lip. “I don’t know. Sam is dead, but somehow he’s also their brother, I think.”

“How did that happen?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dean snapped. “Rowena, you have to bring him back.”

Rowena looked alarmed. “I can’t bring an archangel back. Not even the Book of the Damned would tell me how to do that. It would take the power of—"

Nick cut her off. “Cas, can you do it?”

Castiel held up his hands helplessly. “Even if he was human, I don’t think I could do it.” 

“A deal,” Nick suggested.

Sam's heart contracted painfully with fear. If there was going to be a deal made, it would be Dean who paid the price. Dean was the one that always paid the price for Sam.

“No!” he said fiercely, reaching for Dean automatically. “You can’t!” His hand moved through Dean like he was made of mist, and he cursed. He wasn’t truly there and could do nothing to stop this. 

“He was an archangel when he died,” Castiel said. “There’s nothing I nor any demon can do. This would need more power than any being on earth is capable of.”

Dean squeezed his eyes closed, and fresh tears slipped from under his lids. 

“Billie,” Nick whispered. “Or Chuck. They can do it.”

“Yes!” Mary gasped. “How do we get them here?”

In answer, Dean moved Sam’s body into Nick’s arms, where it was held as if something precious—the sight made Sam feel sick. Dean threw back his head and shouted, “Chuck! We need you!”

They all looked around, Jack and Rowena looking wary but confused, but there was no new presence in the room. 

Dean cursed, and Mary laid her hand on his shoulder. “Try Billie. She might come for you.” She gently combed her fingers through Sam’s hair, smoothing the tangles. “Someone has to come.”

“Billie!” It was Nick that called this time, and his voice was a demanding bellow. “Come on!”

“Well, look at this,” a smooth voice said, a hint of amusement in it. 

Sam saw Billie walking towards him, directly through the tableau of the group gathered on the floor; Sam’s body clutched against Nick, and Mary kneeling beside him and Dean. She moved through them like they were made of smoke, as if she was iron dispersing a ghost. When she was past them, they reformed as if nothing had touched them at all. 

“What’s going on, Billie?” Sam asked. 

She raised an eyebrow. “I would have thought that was obvious. Dean killed you.”

Sam’s eyes moved past her to look at his own body again, feeling the unease that was the sight of himself being held by the man whose face haunted his nightmares. 

She sighed. “You’re distracted, and that’s not helpful.” 

Billie snapped her fingers. Sam felt a jolt of cold air, and then he was standing in a vast room surrounded by bookshelves filled with black books.

“This is your reading room,” Sam said, remembering the description Dean had eventually given after much probing, following Dean’s temporary death in the Doctor Meadows case a couple of years ago. 

“It is.” 

She walked to a desk where there was a single book on the blotter. She picked it up and showed Sam the spine where he saw his own name printed. “You had shelves of these before you shot God,” she said. “A multitude of possible deaths, but after God’s plan was put in place, they all disappeared and were replaced by this outcome.” She patted the cover. “One death. One man’s hands that dealt the killing blow.”

“So why am I still here? Shouldn’t I be in The Empty? I’m technically an archangel now. Or I was when I died…”

“You should be. I didn’t control this particular end. It was taken out of my hands. I told you there was a loophole.”

“Yeah, but I thought I was supposed to get my life back.”

“You were,” she agreed. “At least that was what I assumed. I thought that having Dean kill you would be enough, that God would reset things. I was wrong. He was obviously even more angry than I realized. I think he’s enjoying the story, too. I admit it was interesting for me to watch it unfold. I think this new development is what’s called a sequel.”

Sam’s mind sorted through what she was saying at half speed. Though he was here with her now, getting answers, his heart was still in the library with his family gathered around his dead body. 

“What happens next?” he asked. “What’s the next part of the story?”

“I don’t know. I’m not in control of it. That would be you.”

“So, I’m supposed to just hang around as a ghost forever?” he asked. “That’s what he wants to see?”

It made sense in a way. It had been hard enough to be alive but without his family, trapped in the persona of Lucifer and then his vessel to their minds. Being an observer to their grief would be even worse. And that was precisely the kind of thing Chuck would enjoy. 

“It’s possible,” she said. “No new book has been created for you; there’s no other end, so you are either destined to end here and now or never end.” She pressed her lips into a thin line. “It’s funny that a Winchester that died so many times and lived is now the one that can’t die at all. Everything _should_ die eventually.”

“What do I do?” Sam asked. 

“I have no answers for you, Sam. God is the one you need to speak to, and the fact he hasn’t shown himself yet means he’s still enjoying what he’s seeing and doesn’t want to interfere.”

“Then why did you bring me here?”

“Call it an act of kindness. I will have to go back to them and answer their questions, but I wanted you to have a moment away from what was happening. You did kill Michael, so I owed you a favor. And I was the one that set you up with a rogue reaper, unknowingly, that didn’t give you all the tools you needed. The fact you won at all was an impressive feat.”

Sam sorted through his thoughts for a moment and then asked, “Do you know what’s going on with Nick? What does he think happened? He was upset.”

“I think upset is an understatement. As for what he remembers, I’m not sure. The story is still being told, and I don’t have a copy. I have to discover it along with you.”

“Okay. Take me back.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you giving me orders?”

“No! I meant, please, please can you take me back? I need to see whatever’s happening. Dean might do something stupid to make this right, and I need to stop him.”

“How are you going to do that?” 

There was a soft laugh from behind the closest bookshelf, and Chuck revealed himself. His smile was smug, and there was a light in his eyes, joy at Sam’s pain, that made Sam want to attack. Even knowing what happened the last time he tried to hurt Chuck, Sam would perhaps have done it again if he’d had a weapon. 

“Yeah, Sam,” he said. “How are you going to do that?”

Sam’s shoulders sagged as he recognized his absolute defeat in the situation. He had no control, no way to help Dean or stop him from making a bad decision. He wasn’t even a real ghost that could find a way to communicate with him. 

“Please, stop this,” he said, his voice pleading. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

Chuck smirked. “This was never about imparting a lesson, Sam. This was about the story. It came out even better than I could have imagined. Michael was the wildcard I needed but didn’t see coming. I had no idea he would enjoy it so much or that he would find so many ways to hurt you. He’s dead now, of course, but he came from a world that was just another failed experiment, so I don’t mind.”

“Then what happens next?” Sam asked. “What am I supposed to do? Do I just watch them forever, living their lives, seeing Dean’s pain?”

“What kind of story would that be?” he asked, seeming genuinely confused by the question. “It has no entertainment value at all. No, Sam, you’re not staying a helpless ghost. You can dive right back into that story and suffer the consequences.”

“You’re sending me back?” Sam asked hopefully. 

If they remembered him now, he could have some kind of life with them. He would have Nick, too, but that was a fair price to pay for having his real family in his life. 

“I am,” Chuck said. “But you’re going to need a little lesson in Winchester history. You can’t play your part if you don’t know your lines.” He looked at Billie and said, “I’m sure this is boring for you, so I’ll take over. You can stand down.”

Billie scowled. “I’m not yours to command.”

Chuck tapped his chin. “I’m aware, you’re one of only two that I can’t command, but you will play your part for your own reasons when it’s time. I think you have some affection for the Winchesters deep down.” When Billie raised an eyebrow, he went on, “ _Very_ deep down perhaps. You involved yourself with Sam, after all. I don’t think you’ll be able to ignore Dean’s calls much longer if I don’t stop them coming.”

“True,” Billie said. “He’s distracted now, though.”

“Not for long,” Chuck asked. “It won’t take long for them to decide on a hunter’s funeral. We should move things along before I am forced to create a whole new vessel for Sam. That’s time-consuming, and this intermission has already taken too long. I want the second act.” 

Sam felt a swoop in his stomach, and he found himself in the library again. His eyes immediately searched for Dean, but he was gone. 

More time had passed for them than for him with Billie as now Castiel, Jack, Mary, and Rowena were sitting around a table with glasses of whiskey. Mary’s was in front of her as she sat with her hands pressed hard onto the tabletop as if to stop them shaking. Jack and Rowena were sipping theirs, and Castiel was turning his in his hand, his eyes fixed on the swirling amber liquid.

“I don’t understand,” Jack said. “How can they have a brother that we never knew? Where has he been? Who was he?”

“He was my son,” Mary said weakly. “He was my little boy.”

Jack reached out a tentative hand and placed it on hers where it lay on the table. “What happened to him?”

Mary winced. “You should tell them, Castiel. I was only there for his very beginning, and Dean and Nick didn’t tell me much of what happened after. I only know about… Lucifer.”

Castiel fixed his eyes on her for a moment, sad and sympathetic, and then looked at Jack, addressing his words to him. “Sam was two years younger than Dean; he was Mary and John’s second son.”

Mary squeezed her eyes closed, and a tear trickled down her cheek and onto the front of her shirt. 

Castiel drew a breath and said, “He grew up with Dean and Nick, joining the hunting life at an early age. I only know the facts as Heaven knew them, apart from the year before the apocalypse when I got to know Sam. Dean and Nick didn’t speak of him after he was gone, not to me, at least. I think they spoke about him in private, but that wound remained raw for a long time after they lost him.” He smiled sadly. “Sam was a good hunter, though that’s perhaps an understatement. He was excellent. Heaven was aware of him for more than his role in the true vessels’ lives. His skills and successes reached us, too.”

Sam moved closer to the table, away from Billie, wanting to be closer to his mother as she absorbed this story. 

He was hearing it for the first time, too, but he wasn’t really surprised by it. He was more impressed by Chuck’s plan and the work he’d put into it. Having him play an unknown man that became Lucifer’s vessel would have been relatively simple, but doing this, giving them this history and these memories, would have taken a lot of thought and care. 

Or perhaps not. 

Chuck created universes to enjoy their entertainment value, discarding them as soon as they began to bore him. There was probably a world in which there was a third Winchester son that he was plucking the story from.

“Dean was dedicated to the hunt and his father from an early age,” Castiel said. “But his focus was never wholly the hunt because he was also Nick and Sam’s primary caretaker.”

Mary winced, and he shot her an apologetic look. 

“Of them all, Sam had the greatest freedom,” Castiel went on. “He wasn’t responsible for his younger brother as Dean was, and he was more of a… I suppose the word is _natural_ hunter. He enjoyed it. Even before he was old enough to hunt, he would immerse himself in lore and research to help his father. When he was older and able to take cases with John, he showed his strength.”

“He was always so strong-willed,” Mary murmured. “Dean was such an easygoing child that Sam was a shock to the system when he came along. He was so different. He and John were…” She wiped at her face. “Dean was mine; he always came to me. But Sam went to John.”

Sam almost smiled at that particular detail. He and John were perhaps similar, but they’d been the ones that butted heads because of it. Dean was John Winchester’s true son.

“That continued in adult life,” Castiel said. “When Dean wanted to be independent, to hunt alone and control the time he was away from Nick, Sam stayed with their father. Sam never truly got over John’s death. They were both the reason Nick left Stanford. Sam and John disappeared, and Dean was worried enough to ask Nick to help. Nick abandoned his studies and joined him in the search. When the reason for their absence came out, when they heard how close John and Sam were to finding the cause of your death, Mary, Nick chose to stay for the fight instead of returning to his civilian life.”

“This is fascinating, of course, but how did he end up as Lucifer’s vessel?” Rowena asked. 

Sam didn’t think she was cruelly moving the subject along. He could see the strain the story was having on Mary, and he thought Rowena was trying to help her in her own way. 

He wanted to know the full story, but he didn’t need to. He’d heard almost everything he needed to hear. Nick had taken his place for all those years with Dean, so Sam’s would be a created history that didn’t matter. If he just knew how he’d become Lucifer’s vessel, he could work out what he was going to do next if and when Chuck brought him back. 

“We don’t know for sure why he said yes,” Castiel admitted. “None of us were there. In the days immediately following Lucifer’s release from the Cage, Sam was distant. We believed that he was angry with Nick for his part in it. They’d always had a turbulent relationship. Sam and Dean were very close, but Nick and Sam never forged the same kind of connection.”

“Nick loved him,” Mary said vehemently. “I know he did. I saw it when Sam… when he was…” She broke off with a sob.

“I’m sure he did,” Castiel said gently and then went on, addressing Jack and Rowena. “Sam disappeared from the motel he and Dean were staying in; Nick had parted from them for a time as they were all struggling with what happened, and Nick thought it would be safer for others if he wasn’t part of the hunt. I became aware that Lucifer had a vessel, and when I investigated… It was Sam."

“But why?” Mary asked in a moan. “Why would he say yes? What did Lucifer do to him?”

“He was trying to save his brother.” 

Everyone turned at the sound of the voice, and Rowena and Castiel’s eyes widened when they took in Chuck standing behind them. 

Mary jumped to her feet, and her eyes roved for a weapon. Castiel placed a hand on her arm and said, “It’s okay, Mary. He’s not going to hurt us.”

Chuck walked around to stand at the end of the table, his eyes fixing on Sam for a moment where he stood opposite, a small smile playing around the corner of his lips. 

Mary seemed unsure for a moment, and then her need for answers won out. “What do you mean he was trying to save his brother? Who are you?” 

“I’m Chuck,” he said serenely and then went on with his created history of Sam. “Lucifer said he would spare Nick if Sam gave consent. He told Sam that Nick was his true vessel. Sam trusted Dean to refuse Michael, he had faith in his strength, but Nick had just freed Lucifer and was still struggling with…” He shook his head, sparing them the mention of demon blood. “Sam thought Nick would give in to Lucifer, and he didn’t want him to suffer that terrible fate. Sam thought he would be strong enough to overpower Lucifer, to control him, so he gave consent. He wanted to save his brother.”

Sam sucked in a breath as Chuck weaved his story. It was casting him in a heroic light, which Sam knew wasn’t his intent. This was about him setting the scene in a believable way. It was a Winchester trait to sacrifice for family, and Chuck apparently had given that same trait to him in his new life as the surplus brother. 

“How do you know this? Who are you?” Mary asked. 

“This is my Father,” Castiel said. “He’s God.”

Chuck looked suitably compassionate as he looked at Mary and said, “You can call me Chuck.”

Mary lurched around the table towards him, and her eyes were full of need as she asked, “Can you help us? Can you bring Sam back?”

“I can,” Chuck said carefully. “But it may not be what you want.” He gave Sam a flicker of a wink and said, “It’s not my decision to make.” He gestured to her and said, “Come with me, Mary. Your sons need you.”

Mary hurried forwards, her eyes still sad but now with a gleam of hope as she followed Chuck down the hall. 

Sam followed close on her heels, leaving the others in stunned silence watching Mary and Chuck. 

Sam knew he was helpless to do more for his mother, but he needed to be close.

He expected his impending resurrection was going to be harder than dying had been. That had been relatively easy, though painful. But this… 

Chuck was going to bring him back, but it wouldn’t be to his real life. It would be just another story. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments and kudos for Chapter One. It’s great to see who’s sticking with me and the story. Thank you MaggieMay17 for beta’ing, and VegasGranny and Ncsupnatfan for pre-reading.

Nick stood in front of the sink in the bunker’s clinic and braced his hands on the counter, bowing his head as his chest heaved, and his mind swirled with thoughts and images.

_Nick stared longingly at the candy bar held out by a six-year-old Sam as he said, “Fine, you can have mine, too.”_

_Nick grabbed it and beamed. “Thanks, Sam.”_

_Sam looked pointedly away. “Whiner.”_

_Nick’s face fell, and he looked at the candy bar in his hand. He’d already eaten his own, and it had been good, but Sam’s was the best one. Nick had wanted the Payday, but Bobby had given it to Sam._

_He tore off the paper and split the candy bar into two, then held out the biggest half to Sam. "We can share."_

_Sam looked at the offering for a moment, then grabbed it, carried it away, and climbed onto the couch beside Bobby. He curled up next to him as he nibbled the candy slowly, making it last as Nick gulped down his half in three bites._

_“You’re a good kid, Sam,” Bobby said, ruffling Sam’s hair._

Nick yanked himself out of the memory and squeezed his hands into fists so tight his nails dug into the skin of his palms.

He couldn’t do this. There was something more important that he was supposed to be doing. Dean was waiting for him. They were supposed to be…

Nick moaned as his heart squeezed painfully in his chest. They were supposed to be tending to Sam. Dean wanted to get him out of the bloody clothes and cleaned up for when Billie came—and she had to come. If she didn’t…

He jerked his head to the side, dispelling the horrifying thought.

Neither he nor Dean wanted Sam waking up—and he had to wake up, he couldn’t stay dead—covered in his own blood.

He pulled open the drawer and took out the scissors that would be sharp enough to cut through Sam’s undershirt. He set them on the counter then grabbed a stainless-steel bowl from the cupboard and bundle of washcloths and a towel. He placed it all into the bowl and carried it out and towards Dean’s bedroom.

Nick had offered his own bedroom for Sam, somewhere better than one of the anonymous rooms they’d not yet installed someone in, but Dean had said his room was better. Nick understood it; he’d wanted his things to be what surrounded Sam when he woke, too, but he’d given in to Dean as he obviously needed it more than him.

He drew a breath and walked back to Dean’s room and entered. Dean was standing beside the bed. His tortured thoughts were as clear as they would be if written on his face. His wet and horrified eyes fixed on their brother, who lay perfectly still on the blankets.

The front of Sam’s shirt had a gash in it where the blade had entered, and it was soaked with blood. There was blood on Dean’s shirt too from where he’d cradled Sam’s body. Nick’s clothes bore the same stains. His sleeves were wet from where he had held Sam’s back, the spot Nick himself had stabbed him, and there was a tacky patch over his chest and stomach from where he’d held his brother, clung to his body as the pain had rent his chest, as the blood soaked in from the wound where Nick had…

He bit back a sob and squeezed his eyes closed for a moment. He had to be strong. This pain, the agony he, Dean, and Mary were feeling, was his fault.He didn’t get to be the broken one that they would feel compelled to comfort.

“I got it all,” he said when Dean showed no awareness of his return.

Dean nodded jerkily and sucked in a shaky breath. “You need to change. He can’t see all that blood.”

Nick set the bowl down on the desk and went to the dresser to get clean clothes for them. Dean’s shirts were folded neatly, and Nick took a blue one for himself and a white one for Dean. He could have easily gone to his room to get one of his own for himself, but he and Dean were close enough in size for him to not need to bother, and he didn’t want to leave his brothers alone again.

He peeled off his ruined shirt and damped one of the washcloths then cleaned the blood that had seeped through the cotton to his skin. He dried himself and then rinsed the cloth and gave it to Dean. “Your turn.”

Dean looked blankly at the cloth, seeming to have trouble connecting the actions needed, then dropped it into the sink and unbuttoned his shirt.

Satisfied that Dean was on track, Nick unbuttoned Sam’s shirt then used the scissors to cut down the middle of the undershirt. The wound was centered over Sam’s heart, such a small and neat thing for one that had done so much damage.

He heard a rustle and the sound of running water, and a minute later, Dean appeared in his line of sight with the bowl full of steaming water, wearing his clean shirt.

“We need to get the shirts off properly,” Nick said. “Can you help me?”

Dean set the bowl down on a towel then knelt on the bed and pulled Sam towards him with a hand on his hip and another on his shoulder. Nick unthreaded his arm and tucked the shirts down so they would be easier to get it out from under him on the other side when they rolled him again.

“What happened to his back?” Dean asked. “That’s not what I did, is it?” He bit his lip. “I didn’t go that deep, not right through.”

Nick squeezed his eyes closed, traitor tears slipping from beneath the lids, and said, “It was me. I stabbed him.”

He didn’t even hear Dean breathe in reaction, and he tentatively opened his eyes to gauge his expression. Dean’s face was blank. It was the eyes that showed his shock and pain.

“I’m sorry,” Nick said quickly. “I thought I… And… I’m so sorry, Dean.”

“You were scared,” Dean stated. “So was I. I panicked.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“And it wasn’t yours.”

Nick felt sick that Dean was defending him. He wanted blame and accusation. He wanted Dean to punish him, to hurt him in the same way physically as he was hurting emotionally. 

Nick was the one that had openly tried to murder his brother. It would have been his blow that killed him if Nick’s aim had been better, if Sam’s hadn’t arched away. But he'd not been the one; it had been Dean's strike that killed. Because of what Nick did, Dean had been forced to kill his little brother. That knowledge, that guilt, made Nick feel like he was being burned alive.

“Why didn’t we remember him?” Dean asked, lowering Sam to the bed again and drawing Nick's attention from his tortured mind.

“I don’t know,” Nick replied. “But I really didn’t. It was all gone. I didn’t even remember having a brother at all. Sam was just Lucifer’s vessel. Whoever took our memories…”

“They’re going to die,” Dean said with no more inflection than if he was talking about the weather. “Roll him over.”

Nick obeyed, and Dean removed the shirts from Sam’s arm and threw them onto the floor.

Nick adjusted Sam so that he looked comfortable, his fingers lingering over the back of Sam’s hand, and then retrieved the washcloth and began to wipe it over Sam’s chest. He moved carefully around the killing wound as if it would still be tender, stupidly wanting to save him more pain.

Dean followed his path with a towel, drying his skin, and then they rolled him again and did his back.

As they worked, Nick fought an inner war with himself. Cries of pain, the audible proof of what he was feeling, wanted to slip from him, but he didn’t get to break in front of Dean. He didn’t get to cry over the body of the brother that died because of him.

Dean pushed Sam’s bangs back from his face and stared down at him, seeming lost in his thoughts.

“He’s not going to fit into one of your shirts,” Nick said quietly, wanting to break through Dean’s painful absorption. “We don’t have anything here of his.”

For the year of the apocalypse, when Lucifer was running around with Sam as a vessel, they’d carried Sam’s duffel in the trunk of the Impala along with their own, always hoping that he would be back to need it one day. But when Nick and Dean reconnected after the Cage, when Nick had been soulless, it had been gone, and Nick had never asked what happened to it.

“I’ve got a hoodie that should fit,” Dean said. “Bottom drawer.”

Nick retrieved the hoodie and carried it back to the bed and then stopped as his mind filled with images again.

_Sam accepted the bag Nick was offering him and pulled out the bundle of black fabric and unfolded it, revealing the word Stanford picked out in cardinal red._

_“It’s a hoodie,” Nick supplied. “I got it when I went for orientation. Dean’s got one, too.”_

_Sam smiled slightly for a moment, and then a scowl took its place. “I’ll be careful not to get monster brains on it when I’m killing them while you’re in class.”_

_Nick’s heart sank as his gesture fell flat. He’d just wanted Sam and Dean to share in the smallest part of the life he was going to be living. He thought they’d get a kick out of the shirts. It got cold in cheap motels in winter with their subpar heating systems. He’d hoped Sam would see what he was offering, a piece of the life he was going to have now._

_“Sammy,” Dean scolded gently._

_Sam forced a smile. “It’s great, Nick. Thanks.”_

_Nick knew he didn’t mean it, that he was still struggling to understand Nick’s choice to study when there were more important things to do in the world._

“Nick!” The way Dean said his name made it clear it wasn’t the first time he’d said it.

“Sorry. I was…” He sucked in an unsteady breath. “I’m still remembering things. It’s like visions, but it’s actual memories.”

Dean frowned. “You’ve got gaps?”

“No, it’s more like I’m getting flashes of things that happened, like they’re just hitting me again. I think it’s all there, but some come stronger than others. It’s happened a couple of times.” He shook his head and returned his attention to something he could control. “Let’s get him dressed again.”

They maneuvered Sam into the hoodie and laid him back on the bed. Nick took the bowl of stained water, tipped it down the drain, and then put the bloody washcloths and ruined shirts into the bowl.

Dean sat down on the edge of the bed and said, “What are we going to do, Nicky?”

“Billie will come,” Nick assured him. “She will. We just have to wait.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Dean looked away from Sam, and Nick saw the fresh tears on his cheeks. “If he’s really… What do we do if he doesn’t come back? How do I live knowing what I did?”

Nick understood exactly how Dean felt, as he felt the same. It was his fear, too. They’d lost Sam years ago, and the wounds had been raw for a long time, but they’d found a way to live with them. Neither of them forgot him and what they’d lost, but they handled it. He wasn’t sure he could do that again, not after what he’d done. 

Seeing that photograph of Lucifer in Sam’s body back in the Brit’s compound, when Hess had been trying to bargain for her life, had been like a blow to the gut from a sledgehammer. If Lucifer had been using Sam as a vessel again, there was a chance they could get him back. Nick had been so tempted in that moment to let Hess live, to seize the chance to have Sam back with her help, but he’d put the mission first. The Brits had destroyed so much, and they had to be stopped. So did Lucifer.

When they’d got Lucifer out of the president and Crowley had put him back in Sam, they’d hoped they could get Sam back by expelling Lucifer. But before they’d had a chance, they’d had to stop him getting to his son, and that had ended with Lucifer and Mary trapped in that world.

They’d lost them both: their mother and Sam.

Nick had been able to handle knowing he’d lost his chance to get Sam back as he’d had so many years without him, but he’d not been able to lose his mother before he even had a chance to really know her.

But now, knowing they’d been so close to having Sam back, for him to die because of what Nick had done… It was unbearable.

“He never told us,” Dean said weakly. “He knew who we were, he remembered, so why didn’t he tell us? We saw him so many times, we worked with him, but he never said. Michael knew.” He pressed his fist to his temple. “I keep thinking of things he said to Sam, things Sam said to us, how the clues were there, but I never even…” He leaped to his feet, and his face flushed with hot color as he shouted, “Why didn’t we know?”

Nick touched his brother’s shoulder and squeezed it gently in an attempt to comfort. “I don’t know, Dean, but I don’t think that part of it was on us. Whoever took our memories was powerful enough to wipe every trace of him. We didn’t _forget_ Sam; he was stolen from us.”

Dean ducked his head, his hand coming up to scratch at the day-old beard on his cheek. “He was stolen, and that was awful, but he was alive. I killed him, Nicky. How am I ever going to look at myself in the mirror again, knowing what I did? How are you and Mom supposed to look at me when I murdered him?”

There was a soft gasp behind them. “No, Dean…”

They both turned as Mary rushed into the room, followed at a more sedate pace by Chuck. Nick’s heart leaped at the sight of him, someone that could help.

Mary held Dean’s cheeks in her hands and lifted his face so he was forced to look her in the eye. “You didn’t murder him. Whoever did this to us, took him from our memories, is to blame.” She looked back over her shoulder to Chuck. “And he’s going to be okay.”

Dean looked past her for the first time and saw Chuck. His face flushed, and a gleam came into his eyes that made him look a little manic, “Chuck! You have to help us.”

Nick lifted a hand as he spoke, imploring with him. “Please, Chuck, _please_ bring him back.”

“He will,” Mary assured them both, her hands moving from Dean’s face to Nick’s and stroking his cheek. “He’s going to save Sam.”

“If it’s the right thing to do,” Chuck amended. “It’s not my decision to make.”

Dean frowned. “Then whose is it?”

“Sam’s,” Chuck said simply, then raised his voice and said, “Castiel, you should be a part of this.”

Nick’s eyes drifted back to his brother’s body, his heart racing with the hope that the motionless chest might move again, that Sam might live, and he had to drag his eyes from him as Castiel came in.

Castiel looked from face to face, settling on Sam’s with a pained look, and then said, “Are you going to save him?” to Chuck.

“I am if it’s what Sam wants,” Chuck said. “I know you’re all eager for me to do it, but you need to understand what happened first. Sam already knows as he was there for it, but if he does choose to come back…”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Mary demanded.

Chuck went on as if she’d not spoken, “…he won’t want to hear it told again, especially as he’s not going to believe it.” His eyes settled on Sam for a moment with a strange gleam. “To understand what will happen now, you will need to understand what happened before. It’s a long story. You should sit.”

As if she’d been waiting for an excuse to do it, Mary went to the bed and sat on the side by Sam’s head, her hand stroking the hair back from his face. Dean took Sam’s other side, touching his shoulder with fingers that trembled, and Nick was left the sole hard wooden chair in the room. He pulled it closer to the bed and sat down, leaving Chuck and Castiel standing.

“You forgot Sam because of a spell that Lucifer had performed for him by a powerful occultist,” Chuck explained. “Lucifer had been laying his plans for some time, wanting revenge on me for what I did, abandoning him again, but he had a failsafe in place. He knew there was a chance I would retaliate when he attacked me, as I did, so he prepared a fitting fate for Sam, too. You see, Sam was never a willing vessel for Lucifer.”

“You said he did it for Nick,” Mary said. “He said yes for him.”

Nick’s heart lurched. “For me?”

“Yes,” Chuck said. “You remember the situation you were in when Sam said yes, Nick, what you were doing and how you were struggling? Lucifer had already made his first visit to you as your father, and you’d refused him, threatening to take your own life to escape him.”

“You did what?” Dean roared.

Nick held up a hand. “I remember, yeah, I was screwed up. But how did that end with Sam saying yes?”

“Sam wasn’t fated to be either Michael or Lucifer’s true vessel, he was universal for them both, having Campbell and Winchester blood. Lucifer came to him and told him that you were his vessel, Nick. He didn’t give Sam the same treatment he gave you, coming as someone you loved; he came as himself and made Sam an offer.”

Nick’s mind reeled as he imagined what Sam had gone through. He wondered if Lucifer had shown Sam his true face the way he had Nick in the Cage when he wasn’t getting enough of a reaction with torture alone. Had Sam seen that horror?

“He said Sam could take your place, and you could be free," Chuck went on. "He swore not to hurt you or Dean. Sam wanted to protect you both from Lucifer and you from yourself, Nick." His face fell into lines of sadness. “He didn’t believe you could resist Lucifer for long; he was sure that you’d say yes. He thought he would be strong enough to overpower Lucifer the way Bobby did the demon that possessed him. To save you doing it, to save the world, Sam gave Lucifer consent.”

Nick felt all the air in his lungs rush out of him. He’d been so angry with Sam for giving Lucifer a vessel, calling him weak and stupid. He’d blamed Sam for the harm that came of it equally with himself. But Sam had been trying to save _him_.

“Sam wasn’t strong enough to overpower Lucifer,” Chuck said. “But he was strong enough to fight. Lucifer was particularly cruel during that year as a way to punish Sam for his continued interference and the inner battle he was forced to wage because of it.”

“Is that why he still wanted Nicky?” Dean asked.

Chuck nodded and shot Nick an apologetic look, “Yes. Lucifer believed, like Sam, that you would be weaker, easier to make amenable to his wishes. Obviously, he was wrong. Because of your strength, your love for Dean, you were able to overpower Lucifer and take him to the Cage, Nick.” He smiled slightly. “You saved the world.”

“But not my brother,” Nick said quietly.

"No," Chuck agreed. "Sam didn't stand a chance. Before exiting him, Lucifer tore him apart inside, so he was as good as dead the moment he was left behind."

Dean flinched. “I remember. Nicky was gone, and Sammy was…” He shook his head, a haunted look in his eyes. “I didn’t even get to give him a funeral.”

“There were more important things at the time,” Chuck reminded him. “And ultimately, it gave Sam more life than he would have had otherwise. Thanks to Crowley and his magic, Sam had more time.”

“As Lucifer’s vessel,” Dean spat.

“Not wholly,” Chuck said. “Sam was the one that spent these past few months as an archangel.”

“Why, though?” Mary asked. “When you took Lucifer away, or whatever you did, why did you make Sam an archangel?”

Chuck sighed. "I know it perhaps seems a cruel choice when I could have facilitated his admission to Heaven instead, but I needed someone to stop Michael. Sam was strong enough to do it, and I believed he would have you all to help him. I didn't know about Lucifer's spell until it was too late. When Lucifer was dragged out by me, and Sam suffused with grace, Lucifer’s occultist cast the spell. I had to choose between controlling Lucifer or undoing the spell, and I focused on dealing with the one that could do the most harm.” He looked down sadly at Sam. “I always intended to come back to it when Lucifer was controlled, but before I could, Sam was dead.”

“So, Lucifer had a spell cast that wiped Sam from our memories,” Mary said.

“Yes,” Chuck said. “When he didn’t go back to the occultist he’d recruited, the spell was cast.”

“But it’s broken now,” Nick stated. “We remember, so we can have Sam back?”

Chuck inclined his head. “If…”

“If it’s what he wants!” Dean snapped. “Yeah, we get that, but why wouldn’t he want it? He can have us back now, too.”

Chuck sighed heavily. “Sam’s life was a fight from the moment he said yes to Lucifer. He battled him minute by minute, hour by hour, and then, when Crowley found him and manipulated his return to life, Sam had to fight then, too. He wasn’t dead and alone all that time. He was alive within weeks of his death at Lucifer’s hands, and all that time, he was kept on standby. Crowley wanted to study him at first, find out what made a vessel tick, and then he just enjoyed having him there. Sam was a remnant of Lucifer, the archangel he'd been scared of, that he could vent his frustrations on. Sam suffered in Hell for all that time."

“He’s been to hell, too,” Mary whispered, the devastation evident on her face. “My poor boys…” She looked from Dean to Nick and then back to Sam. “All my children have been to hell.”

“Sam can handle it,” Dean said firmly. “I know he’ll have all those memories, that trauma, but he’s strong. He can take it.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Chuck began.

“No, I understand my brother!” Dean growled, his hand fisted on Sam’s shoulder. “Nick survived the Cage, and Sam can survive Crowley and Lucifer.”

“I almost didn’t survive, Dean,” Nick reminded him in a whisper.

His experience of the Cage had been taken from him by Castiel, and that had saved his life, but it had left scars. They seemed more real than ever after the weeks he’d spent thinking Lucifer was playing some trick on them. Actually seeing Lucifer’s vessel running around— _Sam_ —and the face that haunted him— _Sam’s face—_ had felt impossible. It had driven him to try to kill Sam. Nick knew now that he’d been deceiving himself all along. He’d convinced himself Sam was a threat but it had just been his justification for taking the life of Lucifer’s vessel, masking his true, selfish motive: to spare himself pain.

“Sam will survive,” Dean said defiantly. “Look, Chuck, I get what you’re saying, but I know Sam; he can handle this. We’re all going to be here with him to help him get through it. This is the flip-side. He's been through Hell, he's been _to_ Hell, but now he’ll have us.”

“What’s the other option?” Nick asked. “If Sam died as an archangel, does he go to The Empty, or can you give him Heaven?”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Nick! You can’t seriously be thinking of letting him go?”

“Technically, he’s not got either option yet,” Chuck said. “As Sam had both a soul and grace when he died, I was able to tether him to the world. He’s still within reach.”

“Right,” Dean said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Then go get him. Get his ‘ _permission’_ or whatever you need. He’s going to give it if he knows we’re waiting.”

“Dean,” Nick said softly. “We need to think about this.”

“No!” Dean shouted. “We don’t. We have two choices: get Sam back or lose him for good. I want him back.”

“So do I!” Nick said, his voice rising in return. “But I don’t want him to…”

Dean cut across him. “No! We’re doing this. Go get him, Chuck.”

When Nick opened his mouth to try to make Dean consider what they were going to be asking Sam to live with, Dean went on in a rush of pained words.

“I can’t be the reason he’s dead, Nicky, I just can’t. We have to get him back. He _needs_ to come back.”

Nick stared into his brother’s desperate eyes and knew he was defeated. He couldn’t argue anymore. It wasn’t Dean’s fault Sam was dead, it was Nick’s, but Dean wasn’t going to believe that. Dean couldn’t spend the rest of his life thinking he’d killed his little brother. It would destroy him.

He nodded. “Okay. Yeah. I’m with you.”

“Mary?” Chuck asked.

Mary touched Sam’s cold cheek. “I want him back, and I want you to do and say whatever it takes to make that happen. The Sam I had was barely two years old. He loved his blankie and hated green beans. His response to everything I asked him to do was ‘why.’ He was still practically a baby. I need to know him as a man.”

“Okay,” Chuck said. “But it won’t be me that’s going to persuade him. It needs to be one of you. Sam doesn’t trust me.”

“He doesn’t know you,” Dean pointed out.

“He knows enough,” Chuck said. “Lucifer told and showed him almost everything he missed when it came to me, and it was all colored by Lucifer’s own feelings of resentment. When I explained to Sam what had happened, that I’d taken Lucifer away and that he was an archangel, he was angry. When I discovered the spell and spoke to him, he thought I was the one that had done it. He believes I’m the reason you all forgot him. He’s not going to listen to me. I have to take one of you to him.”

“Take, Dean,” Nick said without hesitation. “If Sam’s going to listen to one of us, it’ll be him.”

Nick and Sam’s relationship was never as close as Sam and Dean’s. He loved his brother, and he was sure Sam loved him, too, but they’d never really connected properly. Perhaps because they were too close in age. Perhaps because Sam was so consumed with the hunt. Whatever it had been, Nick had never had a chance to form the bond with him he’d wished for.

“Yes,” Mary agreed. “You’re the right person, Dean.”

Dean got to his feet. “What do I have to do?” 

“Sit down again,” Chuck advised. “Take a deep breath. When you see him, you need to be careful. Try not to overwhelm him. I know you’re eager, but Sam is vulnerable. The fact I will be with you won’t help.”

Dean sat on the bed again, edging closer to Sam, and then drew in a deep breath. Chuck placed a hand on Dean’s temple, and all the animation drained out of Dean’s face. His features became smooth as if he was resting peacefully.

Nick looked from his eldest brother to Sam, both of them unaware of him needing them and waiting, hoping and praying that Dean would find the right words to bring their brother back.


	3. Chapter 3

“I want him back, and I want you to say whatever it takes for him to say yes,” Mary said. “The Sam I had was barely two years old. He loved his blankie and hated green beans. His response to everything I asked him to do was ‘why.’ He was still practically a baby. I need to know him as a man.”

Pain rose in Sam’s chest like fire, and his hands reached for out his mother only to move through her without meeting resistance.

He saw Chuck’s eyes gleam with satisfaction as he watched Sam, the only person there that could see the whole scene and enjoy it.

Sam wasn’t a child when Mary died; he was a baby. He’d not reached questions; he’d not even had words to ask them with. Dean was the one that went through Sam’s questioning phase—though Dean would say a phase was only called a phase when it had an actual end, and Sam still hadn’t stopped asking. 

The conversation went on around him, and he shook his head as Chuck explained the problem of him coming to Sam alone.

Sam knew Chuck was a master storyteller, he’d lived one of his stories after all, but as he listened to him weaving the story of what had happened to Sam and how Sam blamed him for it all, he marveled.

If Sam chose to go back, he would be going to a world in which he could never tell them the truth of even a little of it, as they wouldn't believe him. They'd think he was as confused as Chuck had arranged for him to look.

One thing that struck Sam was that Chuck had given no explanation to prepare them if he suddenly attacked Nick and accused him of being Lucifer. Did he not think Sam would do it, or was he hoping for that to be the ‘plot twist’ that added something special to the story when it caught them off guard?

Sam didn’t even know if he would attack if he was there. Nick cared about him; he could see it. The way they talked about him, the way Nick looked at his body, all the emotion he was feeling was familiar to Sam as he’d felt them in his life. That was how it looked to lose a brother.

Nick truly thought Sam was his brother. He loved him.

It was a moot point, though. Sam would never have a chance to tell them anything or do anything to Nick at all as he wasn’t going back. Chuck had overplayed his hand. He’d told them he would only bring Sam back if it was the right thing, if it was what Sam wanted, and he didn’t want it.

If Chuck left him as a ghost, he’d deal with it. If he decided to stuff him in The Empty, Sam wouldn’t even try to fight; he would take it with open arms. Eternal sleep seemed a fair price to pay to not be stuck with Nick for the rest of his life.

He didn’t want to play the part of the one who had been Lucifer’s and Crowley’s bitch in Hell. He didn’t want to be weak; he'd lived that life, and he wasn't doing it again. He had a chance to end it here, and he was going to take it.

He marched from the room, feeling Chuck’s eyes following him, and then went back to the library where Jack was wondering aloud what was happening with Sam and the others while Rowena refilled their glasses.

Sam walked to a different table and dropped into a chair. His hands spread across the smooth wood, focusing on making contact, and he wondered if this was the last time he was going to experience touch like this. Did The Empty come with dreams, or was it just sleep? He’d never thought to ask Castiel.

He squeezed his eyes closed and spread his hands, fingertips scraping across a rough edge. His eyes opened and fell on the tabletop. His finger was digging into the D of Dean’s initials carved into the wood. Beside it were two more initials, Nick’s, and above them were Mary’s.

It was stupid that such a small piece of what he’d lost, his initials carved into a table, upset him so much, but it felt like a blow to the gut. His hands had carved his initials with Dean’s penknife. He’d been there when they explained the meaning to Mary and encouraged her to add her own. That had been his life, his memory of a moment shared with his family, not Nick’s.

Of everything that had happened, it was an N being switched for an S that made him want to scream most of all in that moment.

Chuck had taken all this away from him, and now he wanted Sam to go back into that world as an outsider.

Never!

Sam wanted his family back, he needed them back, but he wouldn’t ever truly get them back. They’d see the man who had said yes to Lucifer and then been to Hell. They would see him as weak and needing protection. Nick would see him that way, and he would _care_.

Sam felt like he was choking. Chuck had put Sam through a lot in the process of telling his story, but he’d never taken him apart so wholly before. Not even Lucifer had managed to do this to him when he was in the Cage, as then Sam had still known who and what he was: a Winchester.

Chuck was offering that name back, but not that life, and it had always been so much more than a name.

The lamp on the table shone brighter and then dipped. Sam looked around and saw Rowena and Jack were gone. The area around the table he was sitting at was now occluded by mist. It was time for a new scene, obviously.

Sam looked down at the tabletop and glowered. Chuck was coming to make his offer, and Sam was ready to give his answer.

“Sammy?”

The voice was barely more than a whisper, and it was filled with the strength of emotion that made Sam’s own chest hurt in sympathy.

He looked up and saw Dean walking towards him, his face twisted with a combination of joy and pain.

Sam rose to meet him automatically, his own face betraying the happiness he felt to see his brother look at him with recognition again, to be known even a little.

When Dean’s arms came up to wrap around him, he tried to return the embrace, wanting nothing more than to hold his brother. Their arms drifted through each other, though, and settled at their sides again.

“I’m sorry,” Chuck said, his voice suitably repentant. “Neither of you are technically here right now, so there’s no contact.”

Chuck’s presence broke the moment of need, and Sam stiffened. He’d not known it was Dean he was going to have to refuse. It was going to be harder than he’d thought, but he was not changing his mind on this. He wasn’t going back.

Sam glared at Chuck. “This is low, even for you.”

“Easy, Sammy,” Dean said, eyes sad. “I know you’re confused, and you’ve been through a lot, but Chuck explained it all. He’s on our side. He’s going to help you.”

“He’s helping himself,” Sam spat.

“No, man, he’s going to save you.” Dean’s hand rose as if to touch Sam, and then he lowered it slowly with a sad frown. “I can explain everything after you’re back. We can all explain together.” He looked back at Chuck. “Can’t you just do it already? He needs to hear it from all of us.”

Chuck sighed heavily and came a step closer. “Sam, I am here to make you an offer. You can come back, I can save you, if it’s what you want.”

“Of course, it’s what you want, right, Sammy?” Dean interjected. “We all remember now; we know what happened. We can start fixing things together. They’re all waiting for you. Give Chuck the nod or whatever, and we can make it right.”

Sam gave Dean an apologetic smile and said, “No, Dean.”

Amusement glowed in Chuck’s eyes, which Dean missed as he was wholly focused on Sam.

“What do you mean, no?” Dean asked.

“I don’t want to come back,” Sam said. “I’m happy where I am, thanks.”

Dean took an automatic step back from him, and his eyes widened. “You can’t be.”

Sam averted his gaze from Dean with effort and crossed his arms tight over his chest. “No, Chuck. I don’t want to come back. I don’t want your help.”

“I was afraid of this,” Chuck said miserably. 

“I bet you were,” Sam snarled.

“I can’t do it if he doesn’t want it, Dean,” Chuck said, his face formed into pained regret. “So much has been taken from him already, it would be cruel to take more.”

Sam could see how much Chuck was enjoying himself, and it made his rage peak. He was playing the good guy for Dean, doing it expertly, and all Dean was going to take away from this was that Sam was too angry to accept the help that meant he could be with him again. 

“It was taken by you!” he bellowed.

“I didn’t take anything from you, Sam,” Chuck said.

“You took everything!”

“Sam!” Dean said firmly, holding a hand an inch above Sam’s chest. “Just stop a moment. Breathe.”

Sam obeyed automatically, drawing the air in deeply and exhaling slowly.

Dean watched him carefully, nodding as Sam visibly relaxed, and then he fixed his imploring gaze on him and said, “Even if Chuck was the one that did this to you, I’d still want you to let him help you.”

“You don’t know what he did,” Sam growled.

“Maybe not,” Dean said. “But I know what _I_ did. I killed you, Sammy. I was scared, and I panicked because of what was done to us all. Lucifer, Chuck, whoever it was that did the spell that wiped you…”

“It was a man called Cuthbert Sinclair,” Chuck supplied.

Dean frowned. “Magnus? No, he’s dead. I killed him myself.”

“Lucifer brought him back,” Chuck explained.

Dean’s fingers tightened into fists, and then he relaxed them with visible effort. “Okay, killing him is next on the to-do list. But even if it wasn’t him, I’d be asking you to say ‘yes’ anyway. We didn’t know you, Sammy. I saw Nick unconscious and bleeding, you walking towards him, and I just…reacted.”

“I was going to heal him,” Sam explained tonelessly. “I didn’t mean to hurt him. He caught me off guard, and it was instinctual to knock him back.”

“I get that now. I know you’d never hurt any of us intentionally. We all know that. But we hurt you. Me and Nick both stabbed you and I…” He drew a shaky breath. “It can’t end there, Sammy. I can’t be the one that murdered my little brother because of a spell some dick put on me. You can’t let it end there. I won’t let you.”

Sam’s hands shook. This was even harder than he expected. The raw need in Dean, the pain, was almost impossible to deny.

“Careful, Dean,” Chuck said warily. “He’s not the man you knew before, remember.”

Dean shot him a sharp look. "I'm not scared of my own brother. I know Sammy, and he knows me.” He turned his attention back to Sam. “I know you won’t let it end like this. Me, Mom, and Nick need you. You’ve missed so much that you should have been a part of, but it’s over now. Michael is gone. There’s no big fight for us. We can concentrate on making things right for us all. You need that as much as we do, I know.”

Sam shook his head briskly, nostrils flaring, “No.”

“Think of Nick,” Chuck said cunningly. “Do you think he’ll ever be able to forgive himself for what he and Rowena tried to do to you if he doesn’t have a chance to make it right with you after?”

“What did they do?” Dean asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Sam said. “None of it does.”

Nick didn’t matter. He wasn’t Sam’s brother; he wasn’t his family. He was Dean’s family now, Mary’s, Castiel’s, and Jack’s. Sam hated that, but he accepted it. Nick had Sam’s place; he got the good life. Sam was not going to put himself in the position of having to pretend to be his brother, too.

Perhaps Chuck’s enjoyment was flagging, maybe he could see Sam wasn’t going to give in and agree to go back. Whatever it was, his eyes hardened, and he raised a hand slowly and pointed it at Sam, unseen by Dean, who was facing Sam, his eyes imploring with him and his tremoring hand held above Sam’s heart.

“Think about it, Sam,” Chuck said seriously. “You will hurt them all so much if you don’t come back.”

Sam opened his mouth to answer, to tell him they could handle it, but instead, the words that left him in a sigh weren’t his own. “I know.”

“You know you have to come back for them, don’t you?” Chuck asked.

Fury raged through Sam as his head bobbed in a nod that he wasn’t controlling. Chuck had gone one step further in his role as storyteller. He was now a literal puppet master.

“You’ll come back?” Dean asked hopefully.

“Yes. I will.”

Sam’s eyes settled on Chuck, and though he was trying to wrench himself free of Chuck’s control, he could tell that his struggles were unseen. He felt his expression form into a smile that felt like an assault.

His lips formed words that he fought to bite off, but they came smoothly, easily, under Chuck’s command. “If it’s permission you need, I give it. I want to go back to my family. I want to see my mom. I want to be with Dean. I want to make it right with Nick. I need to be with the people I love.”

Dean exhaled in a rush. “Thank you, Sammy.”

Within himself, Sam screamed in fury, but his sad eyes settled on Dean, and his lips tugged into a smile. “It’s what I want.”

Dean wiped at his face, and Sam was horrified to see he was crying. He was so happy he was shedding tears, and Sam hated it. Dean’s joy was coming at the price of Sam’s free will.

Chuck was doing this to Sam, taking away the little control he had been left with, and he was trapping him in another lie. Sam _was_ going to be dragged back into life; he was going to have to play the part of Lucifer's brother. And he couldn’t say a word about how it happened, to warn them about Chuck, as then Dean would know that none of it was Sam’s choice. He would know Sam had truly intended to abandon him to his guilt because he’d choose not to come back over saving him from pain.

Sam was going to live a lie with his enemy, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.

Chuck smiled benevolently. “Then let’s get you what you want.”

He snapped his fingers, and Dean disappeared with a soft gasp. Sam felt the strings on him drop, and he roared with rage and flew at Chuck. He couldn’t hurt him, couldn’t do a thing but shout, but he had to do something.

“You asshole!”

Chuck grabbed Sam’s arm and squeezed hard, pinning him in place. “I’m about done wasting time on you like this, Sam. You have seen what I can do now, what I can _really_ do, and you should know your place. You’re going back to your family, Nick included, and you’re going to live a _long_ life. I’m dropping the strings. You can all make your own story.”

“I will find a way to make you pay,” Sam threatened.

“You won’t,” Chuck said calmly. “There is no way. I have what I want. Lucifer is living the life I want him to have, and you’re being suitably punished. I win, Sam.”

“What next then?” Sam asked. “You’re just going to watch me cringe every time Nick talks to me?”

“That would be boring. I’m sure you can come up with something more interesting to do than that.” He laughed. “You might as well make the best of it, Sam. This is your life now.”

Sam dropped his arms. “And if I do make the best of it, if I play nice with Nick and become the middle son, what kind of story will that make? You’ll get bored.”

Chuck stared at him for a moment. "Perhaps, I will."

“Then what’s to stop me playing along and living a boring life to take away your fun?”

“It would hurt you to do it.”

Sam felt a smile curl his lips. “It would hurt you more. You’re all about the stick, Chuck, and there’s no carrot. I can go back now and walk out five minutes later and never go near them again. What fun would that be for you to watch?”

“You wouldn’t abandon Dean.”

“He wouldn’t be alone. He’d have Nick.”

There was a soft laugh, and Sam looked up to see Amara step out of the mist that surrounded them. “He’s not wrong, brother,” she said.

Chuck frowned. “I thought you said you wanted no part of this. Are you going to interfere?”

She considered a moment. “I wouldn’t call it interfering. I think we can both agree that Sam has been punished, and in the process, Dean has, too.” Her brows pinched together. “You didn’t tell me he’d be hurt.”

Chuck threw up his arms. “He’s not hurt! Sam’s going back. Dean gets what he wants.”

“But he killed Sam, and now you’re sending him a brother with nothing left to fight for other than to destroy your enjoyment. That will hurt Dean, too.”

“What do you want Dean to have?” Chuck asked. “I can make it happen.”

“I don’t want you to _make_ anything happen,” she said. “I want him to live the life he deserves with his real brother - freely. That will make him happy.”

“I’m not taking Lucifer’s new life away,” Chuck said defiantly. “He deserves what he has now. It’s our fault he didn’t have it before.”

Amara shrugged. “Lucifer is not my concern. Dean—and therefore Sam—is.”

“Dean loves Lucifer!” Chuck exploded. “They’re brothers.”

Amara nodded slowly. “Because that’s what you created. Dean would not suffer if you took it away again as long as he had Sam.”

“I’m giving him them both,” Chuck said defensively.

“It’s not the same thing,” Amara said, considering Sam.

“I won’t take away what Lucifer has,” Chuck said again.

“No, I don’t think you even can,” Amara said. “He’s changed too much to survive alone now. But Sam deserves better. Give up the strings, brother. Let them control their own fates.”

Chuck frowned. “I already did.”

“But you can pick them up again,” she said. “You need to cut them. Let them all live their lives free of your intervention.”

Chuck sighed and made a snipping motion with his fingers. “There. Done. Sam, Dean, and _Nick_ have free will to do what they want. All of them will. But…” He grinned. “I can’t change anything that came before, Sam. They won’t believe you if you tell them the truth. They can’t.”

“That’s fine,” Amara said serenely. “They don’t need to be told anything.”

Chuck eyed her suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

Amara looked suitably innocent. “Me? Nothing. Just like you, I am going to watch.” She flicked her fingers at him. “Now, you better prepare them for the resurrection. I’m sure you want to set the stage and hear their undiluted praise.”

Chuck stared at her for a moment and then nodded and disappeared.

Amara waited a moment and then spoke in an urgent rush, “I’m not sure how much control I have over this, Sam, because you’re not my creations, but his strings are cut, and he will not be able to mend them. Your life is your own, you can do what you want.”

“As long as it’s with Nick as a brother,” Sam said bitterly.

“That remains to be seen,” she said. “I can start a wheel turning, but I can’t control the direction it takes.” She stopped for a moment and seemed to listen for something. “Dean will be fine, I’ll make sure of it. You have to control the rest.”

“The rest of what?” Sam asked. “What wheel? What are you doing? Amara, you have to—”

Before he could say another word, there was a rushing sound like a gale-force wind and blue-white light powered towards him and rushed up to his chest, centering over his heart.

His questions were going to have to wait. It was time to go back.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am soooo sorry for the late update. I’ve been ill so was staying with family, away from laptop. I’m home now, though, so I’m able to update—and write—again. I missed hearing from you all, too. I didn’t fully appreciate how much support and encouragement I got from your comments and kudos before.

Sam’s ears were assaulted by sound, and he cringed back into the pillows. It was too much to take in—he could hear fast breaths, the ticking of a clock, too many voices.

“Easy, Sammy. It’s okay. You’re fine.”

It was Dean’s voice, trying to reassure him, but it was too loud for him. He wanted to cover his ears, but he also couldn’t move. What had Chuck done to him? Was he paralyzed? Was this his new punishment?

“Don’t, Mom!”

There was a soft touch to his shoulder, and his mother spoke. “Breathe, Sam.”

In an instant, Sam was on his feet, freedom of movement returning. His back slammed against the wall, and his eyes darted around at them all.

Mary was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands reaching for him, and her face stricken. Dean and Nick were side by side at the end of the bed, their eyes wary. Castiel stood by the door, watching him cautiously, and Chuck was behind Dean and Nick, his face alive with amusement that only Sam could see as everyone else was focused on him.

Sam felt a surge of hatred along with his fear, and he wanted to run, to get away. His back straightened automatically, and he felt his wings spread from his back, strong and heavy. They all stepped back, shock on their faces.

He was still an angel! He never imagined Chuck would do this. He’d thought he was coming back as a human, reset to who he should be, not this.

“Give him space,” Castiel warned as they all focused on the wings that they would see as shadows against the wall.

In a rare moment of obedience, they all moved back, and Mary lowered her hands to her lap. 

“There’s no need to be scared, Sam,” Chuck said, barely containing the glee in his voice that only Sam seemed to register. “I know it’s confusing. But you’re okay now. You’re back.”

Sam glowered at him. He started to say it, that he’d had no choice in what had happened, that Chuck had done this against his will, and he should be able to now that his strings were cut, but the words stopped in his throat as he saw troubled eyes.

He could say it, to cast the accusation, but it would hurt his brother. Dean had been so happy when Sam had said—with Chuck’s hands pulling the strings—that he wanted to be back, and he couldn’t destroy that.

“Say something, Sam,” Nick implored.

_“Don’t hold it in, Sam. You know it helps when you let it all out. Show me how much it hurts. Let me see it all.”_

Sam flinched as Lucifer’s voice echoed through his mind. He remembered those words; they had been a regular instruction in the Cage in the days in which Sam still tried to keep control of himself. Those days hadn’t lasted long compared to how long he was in there, only the first few years, perhaps, before he’d given in and allowed the screams and pleas to rip from him under the knife.

It wasn’t a new memory to him, he’d carried it for years, but the feeling that came with it was unfamiliar. He was scared.

He hadn’t been scared like this since Castiel took the experience from him to save his life. Lucifer had still scared him for the threat he posed and what he had already done, but Sam had not _felt_ it the same way. What had Chuck done to him?

 _What do you think he’s done?_ Gabriel asked. _This is window dressing, Sam. He’s created a character that is all screwed up from what Lucifer and Crowley did, and it needs to look realistic. How believable would the story be if you were all stoic in the face of what happened? You’ve got to admit it’s a masterstroke. He really is invested in this particular tale._

Sam winced from the voice. He was already overwhelmed enough without ghosts chatting in his head, no matter how much sense they made.

“I feel it,” he said quietly and automatically.

Dean’s brow furrowed. “Feel what?”

“Your grace?” Chuck guessed. “Yes, I thought you might. It’s even more overwhelming for an angel to be brought back than a human. Your grace will need time to recover. It’s essentially new again. It has its own memories, and they’re what’s reacting now.”

“Why does he even have grace?” Nick asked, his eyes accusing as he fixed his stare on Chuck.

Chuck’s face fell into lines of false regret. “I couldn’t control it. It was an archangel that died, so it was an archangel that I had to bring back. The grace is fully replenished now. There’s no weakness from what you lost with your injuries.” He addressed Sam. “I can take it away if that’s what you want. We can remove your grace and make you human again.”

“Are you in pain, Sam?” his mother asked. “Is it hurting you? Chuck can take it away…”

“Is that what you want, Sam?” Chuck prompted.

“Is it?” Mary asked, her gaze imploring him for a response.

Before Sam could answer, Chuck went on. “It would be dangerous. There are risks to you, Sam”—he paused and formed his face into worry—“and to the world. There would be no last measure of protection.”

“Protection from what?” Dean asked. “Michael is gone.”

Nick sucked in a breath, and Sam saw real fear on his face. “Is Lucifer coming back?”

“No,” Chuck reassured him. “He is with Amara and me now. He couldn’t escape us even if he wanted to. Though he is already changing from the being that hurt you so much, Nick. He’s better now with his new life. It’s just there are other threats out there. It’s your choice, Sam.”

Sam scoffed. Of course, it was his choice. Chuck wouldn’t miss this chance to manipulate the situation, to keep Sam separate from his family in yet another way. He may have cut the strings, but he would still find a way to screw with Sam. 

Sam shook his head jerkily. “It can stay.”

Dean looked pleased and… admiring? What did he see, what version of the brother Chuck had created for him? Was the Sam he remembered stubborn or just determined to protect, strong? He guessed the latter as it would fit with the man that had said yes to Lucifer to protect his younger brother.

“You’re making the right choice,” Chuck said, his eyes bright with mirth.

“Are you sure, Sam?” Nick asked, genuine concern in his voice that felt like a barb against Sam’s skin.

Sam forced himself not to recoil, making a show of calm by curling his wings in at his back, and nodded. 

“Good,” Chuck said. “I’ll leave you all to talk. I want to speak to Rowena before I go.”

“Thank you, Chuck,” Dean said fervently. “We’re never going to be able to repay you for this.” His eyes moved to Sam, indicating the cause of his gratitude—Sam’s resurrection.

“I owed it to you all,” Chuck said. “Sam, you’re perfectly safe now. Your _family_ will be able to help you.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at him. The emphasis he put on the word and the way he fixed his gaze on Nick made it clear which member of his ‘family’ he wanted to draw Sam’s attention to. Chuck was enjoying himself, reminding Sam of what he was living with now— _who_ he was living with.

Chuck looked oddly sad in the moment before he left the room, a show of regret for the way Sam was reacting to him just for the others to see.

“We will help you, Sam,” Nick promised. “All of us. Just tell us what you need.”

The genuine emotion in his voice, the fact he truly wanted to help, made heat rise in Sam’s chest. This was so wrong, so twisted, and it was only the beginning. His life was going to be intertwined with Nick’s forever now. He was never going to get away from him. 

“I don’t know what I need,” Sam said honestly, forcing himself to look into the face of his torturer.

It seemed so much harder to be near him now. He’d faced Nick before many times, he’d seen him taking Sam’s place with his family, but now it felt almost unbearable. Was it because he knew what it meant now, the fatalism of their life together, or was it something to do with the raw memories of the Cage that Sam was immersed in again?

“We can just get a drink and talk,” Dean said. “I guess you won’t want the drink, but… how much do you know about this place? You knew about Henry, right? I mean, you salted and burned him.”

Sam shrugged and pulled an explanation out of thin air. “I know what Lucifer knew.”

“You have his memories?” Nick asked, looking sickened. “All of what he… did?”

Sam realized what Nick was asking, and he formed his answer carefully. Nick wanted to know what Sam remembered of the Cage and what Lucifer had done to him there. He wasn’t going to claim ownership of Nick’s torture as it had never been Nick that had suffered. He would not feign regret for what had happened to Nick - as it hadn’t.

“I don’t have his memories, but I have his knowledge,” Sam said.

Dean’s brow furrowed with confusion. “You told Michael you only had your own.”

“I lied to Michael about a lot of things,” Sam said. “It was easier.”

Looking relieved, Nick nodded and said, “Lucifer didn’t know it all though, everything you missed. Do you want us to fill you in?”

Sam shook his head briskly. He wasn’t going to be told his own life story from this interloper. Lucifer would have known enough from his scouring of Castiel’s mind as a vessel, and that would do to cover the gaps that mattered. He had been there for almost all of the rest of it.

“Can we talk, though?” Mary asked hopefully. “There’s so much we need to say, that _I_ need to say. It’s been a lifetime for me, Sam. I want to…”

The words went unsaid, but Sam knew what she wanted. For her, this was her first chance to be with him properly since he was a toddler. She wanted to create memories with him, a bond. Sam didn’t think he could do it. Seeing the open emotion in them all, in Nick, was too much to handle. He just wanted space.

“I’m sorry,” he said, genuine regret in his voice. “I can’t yet. I need to go.”

“No!” Nick said, moving towards him as if he couldn’t resist the draw.

“I’ll come back,” Sam said, his eyes moving from Dean to Mary.

His wings spread again. He felt the resistance of the sigils that had limited his ability to fly into the bunker, but his full grace allowed him to take flight. He went to the library first and retrieved the two blades—his own and Michael’s.

Rowena’s, Jack’s, and Chuck’s eyes fell on him, and Rowena shrank back in her chair while Jack watched him uncertainly, and then Sam fled, needing space and peace to work through what had happened and what it meant for him now.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean’s eyes fixed on the place Sam had been, and his breath came out in a heavy sigh.

He’d not been sure of exactly what to expect when Sam was brought back, apart from a miracle, but he’d thought there would be more of a connection there for them all, a reunion. It wasn’t like Sam was brought back against his will, and he’d proved how strong he was again and again, but he’d seemed so different, so vulnerable.

Mary covered her face with her hands and made a soft gasping sound. Nick eased her up and put his arms around her. She buried her face into his shoulder and said, “He left.”

“Yeah, but he said he’d come back, too,” Dean said. “He just needs a little time.”

“But he was so different,” Nick said. “When we saw him before, when we didn’t remember him, he was so strong, calm. He seemed to be in control all the time. But now he was… I don’t want to say weak… Unnerved? Wary? And when he looked at me, he seemed scared.”

Dean hadn’t noticed that as he’d been consumed by what he was seeing and how Sam was reacting to him, but he trusted Nick to know what he was seeing in their brother.

Mary pulled back and looked at Nick. “You think he was scared of you?”

Nick nodded. “He was. It was like he wasn’t seeing me; he was seeing someone else.”

“But who?” Mary asked.

Nick shrugged. “I don’t know, but there was nothing good there. We were never close like him and Dean were; we didn't connect right, but he was still Sam, my brother. I didn’t feel that from him anymore.”

“He’s been through a lot,” Dean reminded them. “Chuck said his grace was going to feel raw. It was probably that. He went through hell with Crowley, went months with us not knowing who he was, and then he died. He’s going to be feeling all kinds of stressed out.”

Castiel cleared his throat. “How do you feel, Nick?”

Nick looked puzzled. “Uh, disappointed, worried, exhausted. Why?”

Castiel stared at him a moment as if analyzing him. “Something has been taken from me.”

“What?” Dean asked.

Castiel answered, his eyes still fixed on Nick with an intensity that made Dean uncomfortable, “Nick’s experience of the Cage.”

Dean’s eyes snapped to Nick. “Are you okay?”

Nick frowned. “Yeah. I mean, I'm worried about Sam, obviously, but otherwise, I feel like me. I don't feel like I did when it was still in my head. I'm not seeing Lucifer or anything."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Nick going through that again was one of his worst nightmares. He’d come so close to losing Nick to that madness, and he never wanted to feel as helpless as that again.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel said, sounding frustrated. “It’s been there since I took it, I always sensed it there, but it’s gone.”

Nick pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do we need to stress over it? We’ve got enough going on already. Cas, man, if you’ve not got it and _I’ve_ not got it, I’m calling it a good thing. Let’s not go looking for trouble since we’ve already got enough.”

Castiel didn’t look reassured, but he turned and walked from the room without a word. Dean and Nick exchanged a glance and then followed, Mary behind them.

When they got into the library, Dean saw that Chuck was sitting at the table opposite Rowena, and they seemed deep in conversation with Jack looking between them both as they spoke.

"It's not him, though," Chuck said. "I know he put you through terrible things, but that was never Sam. It was always Lucifer."

“I know that,” Rowena said bitterly. “And I don’t expect you to understand since you’re invulnerable, but when you’ve had your skull crushed and been immolated by an archangel that smiled the whole time he did it, it’s hard to let go and accept that he’s suddenly not the same person. It's his face that I see.” She looked up as they entered, and she fixed her gaze on Nick. " _You_ understand, don’t you, Nicholas?”

Nick rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess. I mean, I remember how it felt to see him before I knew the truth, his true face always in the background of my mind, but now I just see my brother.”

Rowena huffed a laugh. “Must be nice for you. Unfortunately, Sam Winchester is nothing to me. I don’t have any other experience or bond with him to call upon.”

“I understand,” Jack said quietly. “He’s not my father, I know that, but he looks like him. He never hurt me the same way he did you both, but he did hurt me in other ways.”

Nick sighed. "You just need to get to know him. He's nothing like Lucifer, really. He's… good."

“He really is,” Dean said. “Right, Mom?”

Mary smiled sadly. “I can’t call upon experience. He was a good child, but he’s a man now that I don’t know. I am sure he is good, though. He must be to do what he did for Nick. I haven’t had a chance to know him yet, though. He left.”

“We saw,” Jack said. “He took both of the archangel blades—his own and Michael’s.”

“I imagine he doesn’t want to be stabbed again,” Rowena said pointedly.

Dean winced, and Nick ducked his head.

“It wasn’t your fault, either of you,” Chuck said. “Nick was scared of Lucifer, and Dean was protecting his brother.”

“And he was probably a little bitter about us trying to send him to the Cage,” Rowena pointed out.

Dean’s eyes snapped to Nick. “You did _what_?”

Nick flinched and seemed to need to force himself to meet Dean’s eye. “I had Rowena help me. We tried to get his grace out and do the spell. It didn’t work.”

“It wouldn’t,” Chuck said. “Sam is not an archangel in a vessel. The body is his own and coexists with the soul in it. He’s a hybrid in a way. There has never been another angel like him. That’s why it’s so hard for him. His soul was damaged when he was with Lucifer and Crowley, just like yours was in the Cage, Nick.”

Dean gasped. “Does that mean what happened to Nicky is going to happen to Sam, too?”

The idea was abhorrent. He’d only just got his brother back. He couldn’t lose Sam the way he’d almost lost Nick.

“It won’t kill him. He’s an archangel with immense strength,” Chuck said. “And he won’t suffer the same… side effects Nick did.”

“Like hallucinations and chronic sleep deprivation,” Nick said, his tone strained.

“Exactly,” Chuck said. “An angel can’t experience a damaged soul in the same way as someone fully human.”

“What about Nick?” Castiel asked. “I don’t have his experience anymore. It’s just gone.”

Chuck looked startled for a moment, disbelieving, and then his expression smoothed into a smile, and he said, “You don’t need to worry, Castiel; none of you need to worry. Nick’s experience hasn’t been transferred back to him. It’s been taken.”

“By who?” Dean asked suspiciously, confused by Chuck’s reaction.

“By you, right?” Nick said.

Chuck nodded. “I thought I owed you more than your brother’s life. You have all been at war for years, always fighting something bigger than yourselves. That’s over now. Michael is dead, and Lucifer will never come back. It's time for you all to rest. I wanted to take away some of the consequences of the battles you have fought before. The war is over. I wanted it to be a fresh start for you all, so I took the experience and healed your soul.”

“Really?” Dean asked. “It looked like it was news to you.”

Chuck raised an eyebrow. “I am God, Dean, there is no ‘news’ for me and hasn’t been since creation. I was just surprised that Castiel noticed so quickly. I didn’t realize how acutely he felt it.”

Reassured, Dean nodded.

“Can you do that for Sam, too, take it away?” Mary asked hopefully. “If he’s been hurt the same way Nick was, you could help him.”

"I could if he would let me," Chuck said. "I don't imagine he will, though. He still doesn't trust me. I won't do anything against his will; he has lost too much and suffered too much for me to do that. To him, it will feel like a violation for me to interfere with his soul.”

Dean cursed. “No, he’s definitely not saying yes to that.”

“Why not?” Mary asked. “He can’t want to hold onto pain like that.”

“You didn’t see him when we were trying to persuade him to come back, Mom,” Dean said. “He was raging. He blames Chuck for the spell.”

“He does,” Chuck agreed. “And I think it was the very worst thing that was done to him. His family was stolen. You remember how it felt to look at him and think he was Lucifer? Imagine how it felt to be the one seen that way. After everything Lucifer put him through, he was suddenly seen as the creature that had hurt every one of you in some way. He loves you all so much—you too, Mary, even though he has no more memory of you than you do him—and he lost it all. What I did, taking Lucifer away, should have been a gift, but Cuthbert Sinclair turned it into a curse.”

“Wait! Cuthbert Sinclair?” Nick said. “Magnus? That freak that wanted Dean in his zoo? He’s dead.”

“Apparently, Lucifer brought him back,” Dean said. “Lucifer knew his attack on Chuck might not work out, and he had a failsafe in place.”

“But how did it break?” Mary asked. “As soon as Sam died, I remembered it all, I recognized him.”

Chuck smiled slightly. “No spell of any man, no matter how powerful, is capable of breaking the love you all shared. It was enough to make you forget for a while, but that instinctual bond, even though you were unaware of it, created immense grief. The spell didn't stand a chance."

Dean raked a hand over his face. He was damn glad he had Sam back, it was a gift, but he didn’t know what to do next. He wanted to see him, to talk to him, but he didn’t want to push him past what he was comfortable with. And that seemed to be very little given the way their last interaction had gone.

When Sam was still technically dead, in that strange place with Chuck, it had been easier as Sam had been open with him. He’d shown that he loved him. All the barriers came up when he was alive, and Dean didn’t know how to breach them.

“What do we do?” he asked, his voice desperate as he fixed his eyes on Chuck. “Do you even know where he is?”

“Alaska,” Chuck said. “He likes to spend time on Mount McKinley.”

Nick grunted a laugh, and Dean frowned. 

“Sorry,” Nick said. “It’s just this is all so weird. Sam always liked his space, he’d go away when he was dealing with something, but the fact he’s sitting on the top of a mountain right now for space is a mind-bender. It’s _Sam_. He’s so different now. He’s a damn archangel.”

"Imagine how it feels for me," Mary said. "He was a toddler, and now he's… It's even harder than it was to see you and Dean as men. At least I could still relate to you. Sam's not even human."

Nick winced, and Dean guessed his thoughts had gone to his own history. When the psychic powers had been ruling, Nick had thought he was less than human. It had been a battle for Dean to make him see otherwise, especially when he had his father’s words in his head— _If you can’t save him, kill him._

Chuck looked thoughtful. “Castiel, I think you’re the logical choice to speak to him next.”

“Me?” Castiel said doubtfully. “I had less time with him than anyone else. At least Mary had two years. I only had one, and we didn’t form much of a bond.”

Chuck nodded. “Yes, but you can relate to him on a different level. You’re both angels. Also, the fact you _don’t_ have that deep relationship already will help. He might be able to handle your presence easier than someone he loves.”

Castiel considered a long time and then nodded. “I will go now, but it will take me a long time to reach him, and he may not stay in Alaska. And…” He looked embarrassed, “I’ll have to climb a mountain.”

Chuck looked amused. “Then I suppose I should make it easier on you.”

He moved to Castiel's side and touched his back. Castiel flinched, and then a wide smile spread across his mouth, and his eyes glinted with blue-white light.

“What are you…” Nick started then trailed off as Chuck stepped back and held up a hand.

“Cas? You okay?” Dean pressed.

Castiel straightened, and the shadows of wings spread from his back onto the wall. There was no sign of the damage that had been in all angels' wings since the fall. They were whole and healed.

“Thank you,” Castiel said fervently.

“I thought you could all use the added advantage,” Chuck said. “Sam is going to be difficult enough to keep up with, even if you’re not on foot. You should have full access to your other abilities, too.” Seeing the question in their eyes, he nodded and went on, “Yes, you can resurrect people. You will also be able to sense Sam unless he is shielding himself from you. If he does that, there is nothing even I can do to help you. Expect him to do it. But he’s still in Alaska right now.”

Castiel nodded, and the shadows of his wings disappeared. He concentrated for a moment and then frowned. “I can’t fly.”

Nick slapped his forehead. “The sigils are still up.”

“Then how did Sam fly?” Mary asked.

“An archangel at full strength, as Sam is now, is infinitely more powerful than a seraph,” Chuck explained. “He probably felt the resistance of them, but they wouldn’t be enough to ground him. I advise that you remove them so Castiel can have free entrance and exit, though, as there is no other angelic threat for you to worry about.”

“I’ll do it now,” Nick said, nodding eagerly. “You go, Cas, make sure he’s okay. Jack, come help me with the sigils.”

“Hang on a sec,” Dean said, a flicker of concern in his chest. “Sam was threatening to take Castiel’s grace last time they were alone. If he’s still pissed…”

“Why is he so pissed? _What_ is he pissed about?” Nick asked.

Dean bit his lip. He’d forgotten Nick didn’t know about Bobby’s fate and Castiel’s knowledge of it. It made complete sense to him, now, why Sam was so close to hurting Castiel like that when he found out. Sam had been close to Bobby, sharing a mindset that was tuned to lore and information as well as strategy, like Nick, and protectiveness, like Dean. They’d shared a strong bond.

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Chuck said. “Things are different for Sam now. You will be safe with him, Castiel.”

Castiel nodded and made for the war room. They watched him go, not looking back at each other until the sounds of the door opening and closing reached them, and Rowena spoke up. 

“I’m leaving, too,” she said.

“You can’t!” Nick said. “Rowena, we need you to help us find Magnus. We’ve got to kill him.”

Rowena smiled sweetly. “As pressing as I’m sure that is to you, I’m not going to stay in the place that will no doubt shortly be inhabited by the face of the archangel that killed me. I’m glad you have your brother back, truly, but I am not sticking around to watch you all build new memories.” She got to her feet and strode out of the room.

“Awesome,” Nick spat. “We could have used her help.”

“You don’t need it,” Chuck said. “Think of all you have done. Finding and killing one warlock is not going to be a challenge after that.” He rolled his shoulders. “I should go, too. Amara will be waiting for me, and Lucifer needs my time.”

Nick scowled, and Dean guessed he was thinking of the unfairness of Lucifer getting face time with his father when their own brother was too overwhelmed to be around them.

Castiel was going to him now, which was some reassurance as he was a part of their family, even if Sam hadn't had a chance to appreciate that yet.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean said. “Thank you, Chuck. Seriously, if you hadn’t…”

“Yes, thank you,” Mary said fervently.

Chuck smiled, and Nick yawned widely behind a hand. His exhaustion was clearly catching up with him.

“You all need sleep,” Chuck said, snapping his fingers. “There, the sigils are gone. You have no excuse to delay your rest.”

“Thanks,” Nick said, concealing another yawn.

Chuck nodded and disappeared.

“Now sleep, both of you,” Mary commanded. “Sam isn’t going to be coming back here today, I’m sure. Let Castiel have his chance to talk to him, and we’ll see where things stand tomorrow.”

“Yeah, we all need rest, Nicky,” Dean said when Nick looked like he wanted to argue. “If we do get a chance to speak to Sammy tomorrow, you want to be awake for it.”

“You really think he’ll be back that soon?” Nick asked.

A reassurance was on the tip of Dean’s tongue, but then he bit his lip and said, “I don’t know, man. I hope so. We’ve got to do this at his pace, and we’ve got to be ready for it to be tough.”

As much as he wanted to have that same sense of reunion he’d had when he and Chuck had been alone with Sam, he knew it wasn’t going to be like that straight away. Sam had been through too much and missed too much with them. They were going to have to find what they used to have again, and that was going to take time.

With only Magnus to deal with apart from the usual threats they faced on a daily basis as hunters, they were going to have that time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that celebrate, Merry Christmas. For those of you that don't, Happy Friday. For those of you that are hiding in the bathroom to read this while family clamor at the door, calling you out for dinner or party games, you can get through this. We all survived 2020, so one day filled with family is totally achievable without committing murder.

Sam leaned back on his elbows at the top of the mountain, looking up at the starlit sky and relishing the peace. He felt overwhelmed by what had happened and what it meant, and the chance to be alone to think was a blessing.

There were things he needed to do, he knew, but he just wanted to be himself for a while—at least be as close as he could be to himself when he was an archangel whose whole life story had been changed in the eyes of everyone he loved.

Violet needed to be dealt with, and he needed to go back and speak to his family, but both things could wait.

Violet wasn’t really his responsibility, she was Billie’s, but he would like to be the one that killed or delivered her to Billie for punishment, as she was the one that fooled him and left him vulnerable by not showing him all the abilities of his powers.

He knew them all now. With his resurrection and the gain of full grace, something had been freed in his mind, and he understood it now. He knew more about what he was capable of. Not that it helped with his situation. Killing demons and reading another angel’s mind wasn’t going to do him any good.

He closed his eyes and just breathed deep for a moment then sat up quickly as he felt an angel’s approach and the sound of feet settling on snow.

“Castiel!”

Castiel curled his wings in at his back, his eyes wary, as Sam jumped to his feet and spread his wings in an instinctive threat.

He was disappointed to have been found and surprised to see Castiel with perfect wings at his back again. They were tawny brown with a faint grey sheen, different to Sam’s inky black ones. They were also smaller than his. He’d not seen another angel’s wings before, and it was a surreal experience to see the man that had been his friend, now in his true form, the being his human mind had never been able to perceive before.

“I can’t hurt you, Sam,” Castiel said. 

It was strangely worded, can’t not won’t, a reminder that Sam was the stronger one here instead of the vulnerable one as he had always been before —when his life had been his own.

Sam nodded and folded his wings. “So, Chuck gave you your wings back.”

“Yes. He thought it would make it easier for me to help you.”

Sam snorted. "Sure, he did. Chuck’s all about helping me.”

“I really think he is, Sam,” Castiel said solemnly.

“Of course you do. You’re a fan.”

“And you are not,” Castiel stated.

Sam's hands fisted, and Castiel took a step back.

“I can’t hurt you either, Cas,” he said.

“You really can.”

Sam huffed a laugh at Castiel’s customary bluntness. “I _won’t_ hurt you.”

“Are you sure?” Castiel asked. “You were going to take my grace, and I know you wanted to kill me.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “I was, but I didn’t. And now you’ve got Chuck’s ‘truth’ again, you know why I was going to do it.”

Castiel nodded. “I do understand, and I’m sorry for it. What I did to Bobby was perhaps unforgivable, but you weren’t there; you don’t know what we were facing. When I heard what happened, I fought for his freedom, but I had no leverage. Each time I went back to Heaven after, it was to plead for help for us. You weren’t part of that time with us, Sam, so you don’t understand what we were facing. Dean, Nick, and I had wars to wage, threats to deal with, and I believed Heaven’s help was the only way to win.”

Sam turned away. He _did_ know because he _had_ been there. And if he and Dean had known what happened to Bobby, they would have found a way to fix it even with the problems they already had. They would never have allowed him to languish in jail all that time because of them—because Sam had dragged him into another problem when he should have been enjoying his own heaven.

“I’m sorry that you can’t understand,” Castiel said. “I know how much you loved Bobby.”

“I did,” Sam said brutally. “And I still love him. He’s not dead to me anymore.”

“No,” Castiel agreed. “You can see him again. Have you already been?”

“Not since I saw you there. He thought I was Lucifer.”

Castiel bowed his head. “That must have been very difficult for you. Though it’s the logical conclusion to draw with what he knew, with you being Lucifer’s vessel.”

“No,” Sam said. “He thought I was Lucifer because the lie reached Heaven.”

Castiel looked startled. “The spell stretched that far?”

“It wasn’t a spell!” Sam snapped. “It was Chuck!”

"I know that's what you believe, and I understand why, as it must have been confusing for you with Lucifer’s knowledge and resentment, but it really wasn’t.”

Sam felt a wave of rage rush through his veins, and he grabbed Castiel's shoulders and shook him. “You still don’t know the truth!”

He wanted someone to know, just one person he loved to understand who he really was. He was sick of the lies. It had been bad enough to be seen as just a stranger that had given consent to Lucifer, worse when they thought he _was_ Lucifer, but this… He was Sam Winchester, Dean’s brother but never Nick’s because _that_ was Lucifer. Sam was the one who had been with them all those years; that was his story, not Nick's. Nick was the devil!

He was so consumed with what he was thinking and feeling that he didn’t feel the heat in his hands or see the light burning through them, into Castiel, whose eyes glowed with grace light.

“Sam,” Castiel whimpered.

Sam saw the light at last, and he dropped his hands, pushing Castiel away from him and holding his fisted hands to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

Castiel stared at him, wide-eyed and his breaths coming quick. “What did he do?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Sam said. “I’m not even sure what I did. Are you hurt?”

“Lucifer…” Castiel breathed.

“No! I’m Sam!” he said desperately.

He couldn’t bear to go back to that lie again. If this was the only way he could have his family back, with him as the spare brother whose largest part in the whole story was as Lucifer’s vessel, he would take it.

Castiel shook his head and stared at Sam for a moment. “I don’t understand,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Just don’t…”

Castiel spread his wings and flew away before he could do more than reach for him.

Sam cursed loudly. He’d just destroyed the little he had with his family by hurting Castiel.

He’d not meant to do it, it had been an instinctual action of anger, but he’d blown it all to hell. They might love him as the middle brother, but they loved Castiel, too, and they wouldn’t trust him after this. They might even go back to thinking he was somehow Lucifer, perhaps believing there was still some trace of the devil in him.

“What the hell did I just do?” he shouted at the sky.

 _You just blew through some pretty deep conditioning,_ Gabriel said cheerfully. _Even I haven’t done that before. Poor Cas. He’s got to be reeling right now. You might want to check on him and Nick. There’s no telling what he’ll do next._

“What?”

There was a chuckle in his mind but no explanation.

“I screwed up,” Sam sighed. “I’ve ruined it all.”

_Or have you saved yourself?_

Sam growled the next words. “You’re just the voice of a damn ghost in my head, Gabriel. You’re telling me what I want to hear, and I don’t want this bullshit. I just hurt Castiel.”

_Sure, I’m a ghost. That makes complete sense. Of all the voices you’d want to hear, I’m top of that list. Who wouldn’t want to hear me?_

Sam didn’t understand. The voice wasn’t telling him what he wanted to hear or even making sense as any other form of inner guidance, so what was it?

_Look, Sam, we’ll come back to this, but you really need to check in on Nick and Castiel right now. You just blew the poor kid's mind, and even I can't guess what he'll do next._

Sam was confused and scared, but he thought he really should check on Castiel. He thought about trying to reach him on angel radio, but then realized it would be better to go in person to apologize again, to make Castiel understand he wasn’t a threat. Perhaps he could do it before Castiel spoke to Dean about what had happened.

There was the smallest chance he could stop him telling them what happened, stop him from breaking what he had with his family, and he had to seize it.

He spread his wings and took flight to the bunker. He arrived in the library and was relieved to find it empty, and the lights dimmed, which he and Dean had always done when they went to bed.

Happy there would be at least the smallest delay before Castiel could tell them what happened, Sam hurried through the halls towards Dean’s room, sure that was who Castiel would choose to tell the tale to first.

He saw Castiel before he reached Dean’s room though, standing outside the open door of what had been Sam’s own room but was now Nick’s.

“Cas,” he hissed.

Castiel startled and took a step back.

Sam held up his hands and whispered, “I’m not going to hurt you, I swear.”

Castiel nodded. “I know, Sam.”

He seemed to mean it, and Sam was confused. “Can we talk?” he asked. “I know you want to tell them what happened, but if you’d give me a chance to explain… Don’t take them away from me, Cas, _please_.”

Castiel looked back into Nick’s bedroom again from which the sounds of soft snores were emanating and then eased the door closed with a soft click and walked towards Sam. “We should go outside,” he said. “They might hear us.”

Wary that Castiel might be using the chance to escape him before he could speak, Sam said, “You go first. I’ll follow.”

Castiel smiled slightly as he spread his wings, and Sam did the same, following at his back as Castiel took flight and set himself down on the road just outside the bunker’s front door.

Sam landed far enough away that Castiel wouldn’t feel threatened by him and spoke in a rush, “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was just angry, and it happened; I lost control. I won’t let it happen again, I swear. I’ll control myself.”

Castiel smiled sadly. “I’m not scared of you, Sam, and you didn’t hurt me. Well, it hurt, but not for the reasons you’re thinking.”

“What did I do?” Sam asked. “I’ve never done that before. I’ve never even seen it done. I’ve got all this power, all these things I can do, but I still don’t know all of it.”

Castiel's eyes moved back to the bunker, and a strange look spread across his face; it was almost longing. "You made me see."

“See what?”

 _The truth,_ Gabriel supplied.

“I saw you,” Castiel said. “I saw everything. I know it all now.”

“Know what?”

“I know who Nick really is.”

Sam staggered back a step as his heart lurched, and the tips of his wings prickled.

He felt a rush of hope that was heady, and he tried to stamp it down, telling himself Castiel couldn’t mean what Sam was hoping he did. Castiel was obviously talking about something else. There was no way Chuck would have left a loophole like this.

“Cas, I…”

_Let him talk._

A gleam appeared in Castiel’s eyes, a look of love that Sam hadn’t seen directed to him since Apocalypse World, when he’d arrived in Bobby’s camp after being resurrected by Lucifer—following the vampires’ fatal attack on him.

“You’re Sam Winchester,” Castiel stated.

“You already knew that,” Sam said, trying to keep the tremor from his voice.

"Yes, but you're not the brother that gave consent to Lucifer to protect Nick because Nick isn’t really your brother, is he?”

Sam's breath caught in his throat, and he pinched his leg hard. He'd not dreamed as an angel in the early days when he'd slept, but this had to be a dream now, or perhaps a hallucination. There was no way Castiel knew the truth. 

“I’ve experienced what you just did to me once before,” Castiel said. “It’s an ability that only archangels and the power of a Word of God possess. When Naomi brainwashed me to kill Dean, it was the touch of the Angel Tablet that made it possible for me to break through what she’d done to me. You just did the same: broke through what was done to me.” He looked forlorn. “I can’t believe I forgot who you really are. I’m so sorry.”

Sam just mouthed wordlessly, unable to speak.

“Why did Chuck do it to you?” he asked.

“I shot him,” Sam said weakly. “He’d created a weapon that would kill Jack, and when I found out…” He squeezed his eyes closed. “It was all just a story, Cas. Our whole lives were like a TV show for him. He controlled us; everything bad that happened was because he wanted to see it. He killed Jack. I was so angry, furious at what he’d done to us all this time, that he’d _killed_ Jack, and I shot him.”

“When did this happen?”

“Technically, spring next year. It was a year in the future when I picked up Chuck's kill-anything gun, and I shot him in the shoulder. I found myself bounced back a year after it happened, when Chuck did what he did… When he…”

Castiel’s face became tormented. “Switched your place with Lucifer?”

“You know that, too?”

“Yes. I can’t understand how I never saw it before.” Castiel’s hands fisted. “ Nick is… I love him, Sam—I love _Lucifer_. He's my family. I mean, he was. In some ways, he still is. I see the new reality Chuck created, and I feel those feelings, but I also look at you and remember everything about the old reality. I see the man that is my brother in a way no angel ever was, but I also see that in Lucifer— because of what Chuck did.”

“He’s not Lucifer anymore,” Sam said, forcing the words out. “He really is Nick Winchester in this world. He loves you. He loves Dean and Jack. He loves my mom, and he is her son, too.”

“This must be hell for you,” Castiel said.

“It is, but now you know…” He blew out a heavy breath. “You can’t imagine how good it feels, Cas. I feel like I can breathe finally.” A wonderful idea occurred to him. “Can I do the same to Dean? Can I make him see the truth?”

Castiel’s face creased with sadness. “No. I’m sorry, but Dean is just a man. The force of that amount of grace and memory would destroy him. He would be killed or left braindead. No human could handle it.”

Sam sighed. “I guess that would be too easy. But at least you know now. I can’t tell you how alone I’ve been, Cas. I just…”

Castiel walked forward and pulled Sam into a hug. Sam sighed against him and squeezed him hard in return, only releasing him when Castiel groaned.

“What’s wrong? What did I do?”

Castiel rolled his shoulders tentatively. “You are immensely strong now, Sam, in far more than grace.”

Sam laughed softly. “Sorry. This is all new to me still.”

“I imagine suddenly finding yourself an archangel is an adjustment.”

“Yeah, that was hard, but now I’ve got full strength… I can’t describe the feeling.”

Castiel became solemn. “Is Nick really not dangerous?”

Sam sighed. “I would love to tell you he was, to have an excuse to kill him, but he’s really not. He’s got a whole different life now. He doesn’t remember being Lucifer. All he knows is the life of Nick Winchester.”

“ _Your_ life,” Castiel said bitterly.

“My history, but not really my life. He’s not the same man as me. He made different choices. There were people that lived because I wasn’t there.”

“Like Jessica,” Castiel said carefully.

“Yeah. He made the right choice there. She’s got a whole life, right?”

Castiel nodded. “As far as I know, she has. Nick lost touch with her a long time ago. Have you thought of going to see her?”

“No. I had my plate full with Michael to think about since this all happened. Well, that and the crapstorm that my life suddenly was.”

“What are you going to do now?”

Sam shrugged. “Probably keep going as I am. If I can’t make anyone else see the truth, there’s not a lot else I can do. Violet, the reaper, was working with Michael, so she's got to be stopped. Amara is doing something to help, but I don't know what. She said she'd start 'a wheel turning,' but I have no idea what that means. I'm not getting my hopes up when I've got the rest to deal with."

“What can I do to help?” Castiel asked.

“Just be you,” Sam said. “There’s not a lot else anyone can do. Make time to talk to me, maybe. I can’t tell you how good it is to have someone else that knows the truth. Billie knows, too, but I’ve hardly seen her. I think I can handle all of it if I can just talk to you sometimes.”

 _You can handle anything,_ Gabriel said. _You’re the man that beat the devil._

Sam snorted.

“What?” Castiel asked.

Before Sam could form a response, Sam felt a voice cry out in his mind, and he flinched. It was Dean, and he was panicked. _“Sam! Please, help us. It’s Nick…”_

He gasped. “Dean!”

Sam spread his wings and took flight into the bunker at once, the sound of Nick’s cries reaching him as he set himself down in the library, Castiel arriving at his side.

It sounded like Nick was in great pain, but Sam’s focus and concern was for Dean. If something happened to Nick, Dean would suffer, and Sam would do whatever it took to prevent that.

His own situation disregarded with worry for his brother, Sam ran towards the sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… Cas knows! There was so much discussion back and forth between VegasGranny, Ncsupnatfan, and me about this. I wanted there to be someone that knew the truth for Sam to talk to in this story, but I wasn’t sure whether it would be Castiel, Jack, Amara, or bring in Billie some more. We decided I should try Castiel first, and we all loved the result. Hope you enjoy it, too.  
> Until next time…  
> Clowns or Midgets xxx


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!  
> I’m not going to hype how great 2021 will be, as we all did that for 2020 and look what happened. Let’s just say we’ve got a brand new year to look forward to, and I will be filling it with fic for you.  
> Thank you so much MaggieMay17 for beta’ing for me xxx

Nick traced the tip of his blade over Sam’s cheek, parting the skin and making blood well and drip down his face. The sight of it made his stomach flutter with happiness that became satisfaction when Sam hissed between his teeth.

“Now, Sam, are you going to apologize yet?” Nick asked.

Sam’s lips pulled back in a snarl, making more blood drip from the wound as it was stretched. “Go to hell.”

Nick chuckled. “We’re already there, Sam. And you know whose fault that is. You did this to us all. Because of you, we’re here, and I am free to hurt you.”

“You don’t get to hurt the world,” Sam said. “You don’t get to hurt Dean.”

Nick smiled. “You know Dean doesn’t need me to be hurt. Even if he does resist the urge to swallow a bullet to get away from his grief, from the agony of his failed mission to protect you, he’s going down in a hunt sooner or later. He’ll be sloppy without you to back him up.”

Sam smiled inexplicably, his voice confident as he said, “Dean won’t be hunting. He’s going to someone who will take care of him.”

Nick tilted his head to the side. “What have you done, Sam?”

Sam’s lips pressed into a thin line as his jaw set stubbornly.

“You will tell me,” Nick said confidently. “One way or another, the truth is going to come out. The only question is how much pain you will suffer before it happens.”

He traced the tip of his blade across Sam’s bare chest, from the collarbone to the bottom of his ribs in a swirling pattern of open skin and blood. Sam grunted, and Nick felt the same satisfaction at the sound. This was the joy of it. Despite popular belief, his joy was not in causing pain. It was in the control and the reactions that pain brought forth. If Sam could bear it without flinching—as he had tried to do in the beginning, before his soul started to tire—Nick wouldn’t enjoy it at all.

“What does it matter?” Michael asked.

Nick drew his eyes from Sam’s face to the archangel that stood beside them, watching him work with a quirked brow. “It matters to me, Michael," he said.

“But why, Lucifer?”

The name sank into Nick, and a hand gripped his heart and squeezed. His vision swam, and his legs weakened.

He wasn’t Lucifer. He was Nick: Nick Winchester. He was not in the Cage, and that wasn’t really his brother in front of him, bleeding from the wounds he himself had created.

“I’m not Lucifer,” he whispered.

Michael and Sam laughed in unison. “You are,” Michael said. “You always have been. You just don’t remember.”

Nick turned to his brother, his eyes imploring him for more, for hope, for the truth he desperately needed. “Sam, please…”

Sam looked at him with a look of such pure hatred that it ripped through Nick like a knife. His fingers loosened, and he dropped the bloodied blade.

“You’re Lucifer,” Sam said. “You’ve always been Lucifer.”

Michael grabbed Nick’s shoulder and swung him around, lifting his own shining blade to Nick's face, bringing his reflection closer until Nick turned away.

“Look at it, Lucifer. See the truth,” Michael said, the words a threat. “Everything will be clear if you look…”

Nick screamed and struggled to free himself. Michael’s fingers dug into his flesh, and the blade came closer. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth. He didn’t want to look. He knew instinctively that if he saw what Michael was trying to show him, it would drive him mad.

The fingers dug in deeper, pressing against bone, and shook him. The pain was immense, and he knew that he was going to open his eyes. He couldn’t resist.

“No!” he bellowed. “Not that!”

He would open his eyes, and the reflection in the bright blade would be Lucifer's true face, not his own. He would look and see that they were telling the truth. He would be the devil, and Sam would be his victim.

“Please, no,” he begged. 

“Nick!”

Something ground into his sternum, and his eyes flew open, his lungs flat and heart racing.

Sam was bent over him, his knuckles pressed to the painful point on Nick’s chest, and his eyes were strangely empty as he moved his hands to the sides of Nick’s chest, over his lungs, and sent a surge of warmth into him.

“Breathe,” Sam commanded.

Nick felt his lungs inflate without his control, and his head cleared. “What happened?” he asked on his first exhale.

Sam moved back, and Dean replaced him, his eyes worried as he looked down at him. "You had a nightmare, Nicky, but… Hell, it wasn’t like anything I’ve ever seen before. You were thrashing around and making all kinds of sounds, and then you were screaming, and your heart was going so fast I could feel it hammering my hand when I was trying to wake you up."

Nick grabbed Dean’s arm and used it to haul himself upright, feeling vulnerable lying on his back with his brothers standing beside the bed. As he did, he saw Castiel step closer to the end of the bed, his eyes worried. Mary and Jack stood in the doorway. Despite the fact he was overwhelmed and in pain, he was embarrassed to have them all watching him like this while he was weak.

Dean supported him and rubbed his back as Nick bent over and concentrated on breathing for a moment. When he had himself under control, he scooted back so that he was leaning against the headboard and rubbed the sore spot on his chest.

“How do you feel?” Sam asked, the words oddly flat as if he didn’t really care about the answer.

Nick shrugged. “Sore.”

“I had to inflict pain,” Sam stated. “I couldn’t wake you up any other way. Dean had already tried everything else when I arrived.”

“How are you here?” Nick asked. “Did you…”

"I prayed," Dean said. "You were freaking me out." He glanced at Sam, and a small smile curled his lips that Sam didn't return. "It was instinct, I guess, to call Sammy.”

“Thanks for coming,” Nick said.

He was pleased that Sam had come, but also surprised. Sam had seemed so freaked when he took off on them, and Nick hadn’t been sure he meant it when he’d said he would come back. He also felt a surge of something like happiness that it had been him that brought Sam back; his brother had come to help him. That had to mean he cared still.

The way he’d looked at Nick before, how scared he’d seemed to be, had been replaced by neutrality. It wasn’t what Nick wanted to see, he wanted the same love and happiness he felt when he saw Sam, but it was something to build on.

“What were you dreaming?” Mary asked from the doorway.

“It was…” Nick felt a wave of dizziness. “I don’t know.”

He remembered that it had scared him more than anything he’d felt in his life, but he didn’t know what it had been. There was a blank space of memory between him falling into bed, crashing, and waking up with Sam over him.

“I don’t remember,” he went on, forcing a smile for her. “It’s just gone.”

Dean looked skeptical. “It must have been something big to do that to you. You weren’t even like that after the wall came down.”

Castiel shifted uncomfortably at the end of the bed, his eyes averted from Nick and looking instead at Sam, whose jaw was clenched.

“I don’t remember, Dean,” he said. “Really. I just know it felt like… like I remember hell feeling before Chuck wiped it.”

Dean's eyes widened, and he made a sound like the breath had been punched out of him. “The Cage… Cas, you’ve got to take it back!”

“No!” Nick said firmly. “It’s not that.”

“What the hell else could it be?” Dean asked. “Cas lost the experience of it, and—”

“Chuck took it,” Nick stated. “It’s not in me anymore. It’s God, Dean; he’s not going to lie or let it come back.”

Dean looked to Sam as if waiting for an argument, but Sam’s expression was still neutral.

“Can you check if it’s there, Cas?” Dean asked. “Or you, Sammy? You’ll have more insight than Cas.”

Sam looked at Castiel, who wore a strange look of sympathy as he asked, “Do you know how, Sam?”

Sam nodded. “I got the download on grace when I came back. Okay, Nick, sit still. This is going to prickle.”

“Do you have to touch my soul?” he asked warily.

Dean’s eyes snapped to Sam. “Do you?”

"No," Sam said. "I wouldn't even try. That's not something I've ever seen done, and I'm not risking it."

“No,” Nick agreed with a sigh of relief. “I don’t want to be exploded, thanks.”

Dean’s lips twisted into a grimace, but Sam looked almost sad. Nick wasn’t sure, but he hoped it was some of the bond they’d once had as brothers coming to the fore. He wouldn’t want to hurt Nick. 

Sam stepped closer to the bed and said, “I’ll search for the experience. It should be close to the surface if it’s there. Something that… potent… would leave a strong mark.”

He pressed his hand to Nick’s forehead, his touch warm and steady, and it occurred to Nick that this was the first time Sam had touched him—alive and with any warmth in it—in almost ten years. The last time he remembered was shortly before the truth about his blood addiction had come to their attention. Sam had hugged him after the ghouls that had killed Adam and his mother had almost bled Nick to death.

With a wave of longing, Nick wished it was a touch born of that same love now.

“Be still,” Sam said quietly, and then squeezed his eyes closed.

Nick held his breath, and it looked like Dean was doing the same, only exhaling when Sam pulled back his hands and took a step back from the bed.

“It’s not there,” Sam said. “There was no sign of Hell’s experience in his mind at all.”

Nick frowned. “Was there anything else? Could you see my memories?”

“No,” Sam said. “I wasn’t looking for them.”

Nick wasn’t sure he believed him. He’d seen Castiel read another angel’s mind before, and Sam had even more power as an archangel. He’d been looking for something, so what could he have seen in the process?

It made him feel a pang of worry. He had nothing in his past that he wanted to hide from Sam that he wouldn’t already know either from being present for it or from what he’d gained with Lucifer’s ‘knowledge,’ but he had thoughts and feelings he’d rather Sam didn’t know.

After Sam let Lucifer in, Nick had been bitter and angry. Even after, when Nick was back and Sam dead, he’d had conflicted feelings about what Sam had done. Nick had been angry that Sam had done it, and also angry that he’d removed himself from their lives in the process. He’d missed his brother and resented the pain he’d caused them—Dean, who had struggled the most without Sam, especially—and the fact he hadn’t been there when they’d needed him.

If Sam had seen all that, it was going to strain what already felt like a tenuous bond between them.

“You should sleep,” Castiel said. “You all should.” He looked from Dean back to Mary and Jack in the doorway. “You all need rest. Sam and I will go.”

Dean looked reluctant, but Nick sensed something more in what Castiel said than the mere words spoken. It sounded as though he and Sam needed to get away, too. He wondered what had passed between them when Castiel found him, what had been said before Dean’s prayer interrupted.

Dean stifled a yawn and said, “Yeah. Get some sleep, Nicky. You’re on breakfast duty tomorrow. I want waffles.”

Nick grinned. “Of course you do.”

Dean nodded, and, for a moment, it looked at though he was going to hug Sam. But he bit his lip and patted Sam’s shoulder instead. “Thanks for coming, Sammy. Will you be back tomorrow?”

Sam looked uncomfortable, but he nodded and said, “If not tomorrow, then in the next few days. There are things I need to do first, and I want to speak to Billie. Her reaper, Violet, was working with Michael, so she needs to be neutralized. I want to know if I can do it or if Billie wants me to deliver her for her own punishment.”

Dean looked disappointed, but he said, "Sure. Whenever you can, we’ll be here.”

“I will come with you, Sam,” Castiel said. “There’s somewhere I want to show you.”

Looking curious and happier than Nick had seen him since long before his possession by Lucifer, Sam nodded and said, “Lead the way.”

There were dual fluttering sounds, and Sam and Castiel disappeared.

Dean watched the place Sam had been for a moment and then said, “Okay, see you in the morning, Nicky. Come on, Mom, Jack, let him sleep.”

Mary gave Nick a small smile, and then she walked ahead of Dean and Jack into the hall.

Nick bid them goodnight and then adjusted himself so that he was lying down again as Dean slipped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Nick closed his eyes and tried to quiet his mind. It was hard. He was wary of slipping into whatever nightmare had drawn his brothers to him to help. He didn’t remember it all, it was mostly gone, but there was the trace of a voice on the surface of his mind that scared him still.

_Look at it, Lucifer. See the truth. Everything will be clear if you look…_


	8. Chapter 8

Sam set himself down beside Castiel at the foot of a towering rock, one of the most amazing formations that Sam had ever seen. They were under a hot afternoon sun, and the lightest breeze stirred Sam's hair.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“Don’t you know?”

As soon as the question was asked, Sam realized he knew the answer. He huffed a laugh. “We’re in Australia. You know, the furthest place outside the US I’ve ever traveled before, before I became an archangel, is Scotland.”

“Not technically true. I took you and Dean to White Russia once.” Castiel frowned. “Didn’t I? It’s confusing with two sets of memories at once.”

“Yeah!” Sam said with a dawning memory. Castiel had taken them there to escape Atropos when she had been trying to kill them. “We didn’t really have time to sightsee, though.”

“No,” Castiel agreed. “Perhaps that’s something we can do now. This is Wave Rock. It’s one of the many things I have always wanted to show you and Dean before, but there were always more important things to do.”

“There are now, too,” Sam pointed out.

“Perhaps, but they’re not the same things as they have always been. Thanks to you, Michael is dead. I know you need to find Violet, and Michael’s monsters are still in the world, but we will have time afterwards, Sam.” 

Sam sighed. “Yeah, we’ll have forever.”

Castiel considered for a moment, and then he sighed, too. "Yes. I suppose that seems very real to you now. I am at risk of being killed; still, there are threats to me in the world, but you are invulnerable."

“I don’t know about that. Chuck might get bored with my story and take me out. I don’t know that I’d mind.”

Castiel frowned. “Is it truly that difficult for you?”

“Not right now, I guess. It’s harder when I’m around Nick because Chuck gave me back the full Cage Experience to back up his story of me being tortured by Lucifer and Crowley; he needed me weak to be believable. But one day, Dean is going to be gone, and I don’t want to live in a world without even the fake relationship we have now.” He raked a hand over his face and said, “He loves me, Cas.”

“Dean?”

Sam smiled slightly. “No. Well, he does, too, but not the right version of me. I meant Nick. He really loves me. I saw it earlier when I was looking at him, seeing how he reacted to me. And when I was searching for the Cage experience, I saw so much more. He loves them all, Dean, Mom, you and Jack, but he loves me, too, and I’m not sure I’m going to be able to handle that. Lucifer always played it like he cared at first, as if I mattered; even in the beginnings of the Cage, he pretended. It was only when I went back to him for help with Amara that he was properly honest. But with Nick…”

“I know how much he cares,” Castiel said. “But, Sam, you need to find a way to live with it if you want to be around the rest of your family. I hate to say it, but they’re a package now.”

Sam bit his lip. He hated that he knew Castiel was right. He was going to need to spend time with Nick if he wanted to see the rest of his family. That would be hard enough even if Nick didn’t care, but Nick _loved_ him—Sam was going to have to see that when he looked into his eyes.

“You saw his thoughts,” Castiel said musingly. “Did you see what his dream was?”

“Yeah. It was kind of blurry, but it was something about the Cage that scared him. I think…” He shook his head. “I thought it was something real, a memory of his life as Lucifer, but it was hard to grasp as he was denying it so hard that it was almost gone.”

“You told me Amara was going to set a wheel turning. Do you think it was something she did? Perhaps she unlocked some of his memories of being Lucifer.”

“I want to think that, but I can’t let myself. If I get my hopes up that it all might come out, that he’ll remember, and I’m wrong, that’ll be harder than anything else. I knew from almost the very beginning what my situation was; I didn’t really have hope for more. I can’t let myself have that hope now.”

Castiel looked sad. “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you.”

Sam shrugged. “It is what it is. I’m the one that was stupid enough to piss Chuck off.” He stared off into the distance again. “I didn’t want to come back, Cas. I knew how hard it was going to be if I did, so when Chuck brought Dean to me, I refused to give my consent. But it was never really consent Chuck wanted. He was just playing a role. When he saw I wasn’t going to do the same, he controlled me. I was saying things I didn’t want to say, doing things I didn’t want to do. And I can’t even let on that it wasn’t what I wanted since I saw how happy Dean was when I said yes.”

“He actually…” Castiel’s hands fisted. “That was a terrible violation!”

“It was,” Sam agreed. “But that’s what Chuck does.”

“I knew God wasn’t what I wanted him to be. When he refused to intervene for the apocalypse, I saw that he wasn’t who I always imagined. Then he came for Amara, and I believed he was good, even though he was selfish. When I thought he was going to die, I grieved a father, but now…”

“What?”

Castiel’s eyes darkened with anger. “If I’d had that gun in your position, I would have shot him, too.”

Sam was suddenly overcome with the realization of just how absurd the situation was, and he huffed a humorless laugh. The image of Castiel doing it was so real, so potent, that he felt hysteria rising. Once he started, he couldn’t stop. He bowed at the waist and clutched his stomach as the sound of laughter exploded from him, and he convulsed.

Castiel sensed the hysterical note to it and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Sam…” he said, his tone steeped with sadness.

Sam shook his head and tried to find words to reassure him, but there were none.

“I wish you were still a human,” Castiel said. “Then I could help with this.”

A sob bubbled up Sam's throat with the laughter, and it worked like a bucket of cold water, swamping the mirth. It left only sadness behind. "What the hell am I supposed to do, Cas?" he asked desperately. “How do I keep going like this?”

Castiel grasped his shoulders and helped him straighten up. He stared into his eyes and said, “You keep going by thinking of Dean. He needs you. Your mother and Jack do, too. _I_ need you. I understand that you might want to escape this, to not come back and see us ever again, but you have to. They might not know what they’re really missing, what it was replaced with, but I do, and you can’t leave me alone in it.”

Sam wiped a hand over his face. “I know. God, I know that. I have no choices left. All I can do is face it, face him.”

“You’ve faced worse,” Castiel reminded him.

“Have I? It doesn’t feel like it.”

Castiel's fingers tightened on his shoulders, and he growled, “Sam Winchester, you are Dean Winchester’s brother, John and Mary’s son. You’re Jack’s father and my friend. You are one of the strongest men I have ever known. There is nothing on earth you can’t face.”

Sam squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and marshaled himself before fixing his gaze on Castiel and said, “You’re not just my friend, Cas. You’re my brother. Not because we both have halos now, but because that’s what we became over years of fighting together.”

Castiel's eyes shone, and he nodded. "Yes, we are brothers, and I am going to be with you for every step of what comes next. I know the truth now, so I can help you. When you need a break from your family, I can make excuses so they don’t push for more. When you need to talk to someone about what’s really happening, I’ll be there. You won’t be alone anymore, I promise.”

Sam drew in his words, taking them like air and filling his lungs with them and their meaning. He had two brothers now who were real; he could bear having a third that didn’t belong. It would be hard to be around Nick, but he could do it for the ones that mattered. He would handle it with Castiel's help, and he would make the best of what he was left with.

“There is hope, though, even if you can’t let yourself feel it,” Castiel said. “Amara’s interference might be the thing that sets things to how they should be. If Nick remembers the truth…”

“He’d have two sets of memories, too. He’d still love them all as well as remembering when he hated them, and they will all love him still even if they knew who he really was. You do. You know the truth, but it doesn’t change how you feel about him. It would be the same situation we have now. Maybe it would make things easier for me with Dean, Mom, and Jack, but Nick would still be there.” He spoke through his teeth as frustration rose in him. “He’ll _always_ be there.”

He would fight back and have a life with his family, despite the fact that Nick would come with it, because he was a Winchester and fighting, overcoming obstacles, winning these battles, was what they did. 

xXx

Dean yawned widely as he entered the library and caught sight of Nick sitting at the table with his laptop open in front of him.

Nick looked up and frowned. “You look like hell.”

“Didn’t sleep much.”

He’d not been able to get to sleep again after Nick’s nightmare until long past dawn. His worries about the Cage experience had been eased thanks to Sam, but their interaction had added new deep thoughts to mull over.

Sam had been so distant. When he’d taken off on them after Chuck saved him, he’d been obviously freaked, and when he’d come back, he’d been so calm. Nick had been thrashing around the bed, those chilling cries ripping from him, but Sam hadn’t seemed upset.

When Dean asked for help, Sam had just moved him aside and set to work trying to wake Nick. There had been no concern in him. It had just been a task to complete. He’d shown no sign that seeing his younger brother so distressed bothered him at all.

The relationship between Sam and Nick had always been different from Dean’s with them. They’d rubbed each other up the wrong way too often to connect on that level. They loved each other, Dean had never questioned it, but last night Sam hadn’t seemed to care at all when he’d been helping Nick.

The last time he’d seen Sam show concern for Nick was when they’d been forced to lock Nick in the panic room at Bobby’s place, to detox him from the demon blood he’d gotten himself hooked on. Sam had sat in the library with Bobby and Dean, his teeth clenched and hands shaking each time Nick cried out. It had been obvious then how much Sam cared, but there had been nothing that followed to show he still did.

After Lucifer was freed, they’d had less than a week together before Nick stepped down and went to live away from hunting, as a civilian, in an attempt to protect the world from him. During that time, things had been strained for them all. Then, within a matter of days, Sam was Lucifer, and they'd not had a chance to make things right, for Sam to accept and forgive what Nick had done the way Dean had. 

A part of Dean wondered if Sam was still angry at Nick. For Sam, freeing Lucifer was the biggest and most defining thing Nick had done before he was taken over by the archangel and then trapped in two kinds of hell. The first hell was the torment he went through as Lucifer’s vessel, punished for his fight by having to watch Lucifer taking it out on the rest of the world. After that, Sam was in actual Hell with Crowley. It was only when Lucifer was gone and Sam in control that there had been a chance for them to reconnect, but Cuthbert Sinclair’s spell had stolen their memories. The next time Sam saw his family, they’d been staring at him with the hatred they reserved for Lucifer.

It really wasn’t hard to understand Sam’s reticence with them, but it was hard to bear. Dean wanted Sam back properly. He wanted Nick to see that same love he’d seen when Chuck had facilitated their conversation to persuade Sam to give Chuck the go-ahead to bring him back. Dean hadn’t doubted that Sam loved him in that moment, but Nick hadn’t had that same experience.

He shook off the thoughts and leaned on the table beside Nick. “Where’s my waffles?”

“In the freezer in the Eggo box,” Nick said without looking up.

“I thought you were making real ones.”

“I did this for breakfast, this morning. It’s past noon, Dean.”

“Why didn’t anyone wake me?”

Nick shrugged. “I told them not to. You’re were deeply under, and it’s not like there was anything we had to do today. The Big Bad is dead, so we’ve probably got a few days to breathe before the next apocalypse.”

Dean shook his head. “There’s no next apocalypse. Michael is gone. The most powerful being currently on earth is Sam, and he can take care of anything that shows up. Chuck and Amara are taking care of Lucifer, and Chuck swore he won’t be back.”

“Sure,” Nick said, turning back to the laptop.

Dean snapped the laptop closed over Nick’s hand, earning a glare that he ignored, and said, “What’s going on with you? Things are _finally_ good for us, Nicky. We’ve got no huge fight to face. We’re all together. Hell, man, we’ve got Sammy back. It’s all good. Is this about what happened last night? That nightmare?”

Nick stared at the case of the closed laptop for a moment and then met Dean’s curious eyes. “In a way. That was bad enough, even though it was just a nightmare, but it’s the rest of what happened. The way Sam was…”

Dean moved around the table and pulled out a chair to sit opposite Nick so he could see his reactions as he spoke. “I was thinking about that, too. It’s why my sleep was so crappy.”

“I’ve seen him twice,” Nick said. “The first time he looked scared of me. The second time he was like a robot.He didn’t even seem to be really there. He helped me, and I thought that meant something, you know, but the more I think about it…” He looked sad. “I really don’t think he wanted to be there.”

“He probably didn’t,” Dean said. “He needed space but was dragged back to deal with a drama. I don’t think it was about any of us as much as it was him having to face us all again. He’s got to be twisted up after everything that happened. Think, Nick, we didn’t know him. We thought he was the Devil, the creature that tortured you—his own brother—in Hell for nearly two centuries. Can you imagine how it would feel to face us with that level of open hatred on our faces?”

Nick's eyes widened, and Dean saw that his words were reaching him.

“Then we get past that, find out that Lucifer was gone, and that was probably pretty great for him, but then we were talking to him as if he was a stranger. On top of all that, he was building up to fight another archangel without his full grace. He must have been terrified.”

Nick sucked in a breath. “Michael couldn’t kill him.”

He didn’t sound as if he was stating a fact or dismissing part of Sam’s fear. He looked as though he’d just been punched by realization.

“What?”

“He knew, Dean. He said he knew who would kill him, remember?” Nick said intensely. “He must have known it would be you.”

Dean's breath whooshed out of him in a rush, and his lungs seemed unable to inflate again. He just gulped at the air, and his eyes watered.

“Dean!” Nick came around the table and slapped Dean’s back hard. The air rushed back into his lungs and his swimming head settled with the influx of oxygen.

“He knew I was going to kill him,” Dean whispered.

“He must have; he said it would be someone he loved. God, I’ve been so stupid.” Nick’s hands fisted, and he fell into the chair beside Dean. "I've been so wrapped up in what it's like to have Sam back and trying to figure out why he's so distant with me." He huffed a laugh. "I was so damn focused on what _I_ was feeling that I didn’t connect to what _he_ was feeling. He went from Lucifer to Crowley, racking up all that time in Hell, then got dumped back as an archangel that found out his family didn’t remember him. And all that time, he knew his own brother, the one he loved more than anyone, was going to kill him—you killed him.”

Dean flinched. “I know what I did, Nick.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I’m just saying that Sam is probably going through all kinds of stuff. Me and you have been through a lot, but we’ve had each other to help get through it . Sam didn’t have that. He was all alone.”

“But he’s not now,” Dean said defensively.

“Yeah, but does he see that? He was without us so long, and then we were hating him. Even at the best of it, I didn’t trust him. I tried to send him to the Cage. We’ve given him no reason to lean on us. Well, I haven’t.” He raised an eyebrow. “Have you?”

Dean considered the time they’d had when he’d been alone with Sam and Chuck. He thought he’d said enough for Sam to know how much he cared, how much he needed him, but he’d been making demands, too. He’d wanted Sam to come back and so pushed him for that outcome, even when Sam obviously didn’t want it. He’d not listened to that as he’d been consumed with what he needed.

“I tried,” he said honestly. “But I made it tough on him, too. I pushed so hard. I think…” He winced. “It’s down to me that he’s back. Chuck performed the miracle, yeah, but Sam was set on saying no until I started in on him. He might not even want to be here, Nicky.”

Nick clenched his jaw. “Then we make it right for him. Whatever he needs—him, not us—we give it. We tell Mom and Cas, too. We let him come to us in his own time, and we don’t push for more.”

Dean nodded eagerly. "Yeah. We can do that. If we give him that, he'll be able to relax and see what being back really means. He'll come when he's ready, and it will be for him, no one else." He slapped his hands down on the table. "I'll tell Mom. Where is she anyway?"

Nick smiled slightly. “She and Jack have gone to the store. I lied about the waffles.”

“You didn’t make them?”

“No, I did, and they were delicious, but there’s none in the freezer.”

Dean punched his arm. “You’re an asshole.”

Nick huffed a laugh, a look of real happiness in his eyes now. Dean thought it was because of the fact they knew what to do for Sam now instead of the lighter moment between them.

Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “Okay, Nicky, since I’ve missed out on your waffles, you can take me to IHop to get me some.”

“Dean, the nearest IHop is an hour’s drive away.”

“Then I’ll drive fast, and you can pay.”

Nick grinned and got to his feet. “Sure.”

As they walked towards the garage, Dean asked, “What were you doing on the laptop anyway?”

“Looking for a hunt.”

“Find anything?” Dean asked.

“No.” He grinned. “I guess this really is the flipside. If things keep going like this, we can do that beach and beer trip you always talk about.”

“Hell yeah, we can!”

But it was going to wait until Sam was with them again. Dean had missed years of his brother’s life, so many memories that he shared with Nick that Sam had no part of. He wasn’t going to waste the chance to build new ones with them all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… Some insight and bonding for Sam and Castiel, and a realization for Dean and Nick. We’re back to proper plot progression in the next chapter.   
> Until next time…  
> Jadey xxx


	9. Chapter 9

Castiel hadn’t come back to the bunker since he and Sam had left after Nick’s nightmare, and Dean was starting to wonder what they were doing together that was taking so long.

In a way, he was glad Castiel was gone still as it meant Sam wasn’t alone to deal with everything that had happened, and he wanted Sam to have that since he saw now that he and Nick couldn’t be the people to help him—yet. But he was looking forward to Castiel getting back so they’d have some reassurance, maybe some news of how Sam was really doing.

He and Nick were both scouring the files the Men of Letters had on Cuthbert Sinclair, Jack was in his room, and Mary was in her own, having taken a call from Bobby in private. From what Dean had heard of Mary’s side of the conversation, it sounded like Bobby wanted her to go back to Florida. She had refused, instructing him to call someone else. Though Dean and Nick had discussed their realization with her and shared their plan to let everything with Sam progress at his pace, not theirs, she seemed eager to be close in case he came around again.

Dean understood it, but he was worried her eagerness would translate into unintentional pressure when Sam returned. She wanted to build a relationship with Sam, and that was making it hard for her to have patience.

Dean could relate to Mary’s need as he’d felt the same desire for more with her—to regain what he’d lost at four-years-old—after she’d been brought back by Amara, but he hoped she would find the strength to give Sam the space he needed.

There was a knock on the door, and Dean and Nick looked up.

“You think it could be Sam?” Dean asked hopefully.

“He’d fly in,” Nick said. “So would Cas.”

Dean wasn’t so sure about that, and he made his way through the war room and up the stairs with a bounce in his step. He didn’t think Sam would want to just fly in on them. The bunker wasn’t his home the way it was theirs, and there was tension between them still. He was hoping Sam would have chosen this way to come back in.

He reached the door and pulled it open, a tentative smile on his face that formed into confusion as he saw who was standing on the other side.

It was a woman with wide dark eyes and long brown hair. She was familiar, but for a moment, he couldn't place her face to a name. It wasn't until she stepped past him and rushed in that he realized she was the reaper that they'd seen on the video of the casino with Lucifer.

No, he quickly corrected himself, it had been Sam. She was the reaper that had been helping him.

“You’re Violet,” he said.

“I am, and I need to talk,” she said briskly, pushing past him and stopping at the rail.

Nick walked to the bottom of the stairs and looked up at them, his brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”

“This is Violet,” Dean said. “She was working with—“

“I was working with Lucifer.” She bowed her head and took a deep breath. “And now I need your help.”

Dean and Nick exchanged a glance. She said Lucifer, not Sam. Did that mean the spell hadn’t broken for her when it broke for them? Dean had assumed it was a universal thing. Though, he realized, she’d never known Sam, so if Sam hadn’t told her the truth, she wouldn’t know any better.

There were hardly any people left in the world that had known Sam. He’d been familiar to other hunters, but most of them were dead now, casualties of the long wars they’d fought without him. The friends Sam had, Ellen and Jo, Bobby, were gone. In fact, the only people who were left that Sam had truly known were Dean and Nick.

He couldn’t imagine how that would feel. Sam had lost everything and everyone he knew. Even though they remembered him now, and had a chance to rebuild something they’d lost, Sam was still struggling with more than they’d realized.

“What help do you need?” Nick asked, and there was something off in his tone. His face bore the look of intense concentration it wore when he was puzzling something out in his unique way; Dean could almost see the cogs turning in his head. 

She considered him for a moment and then said, “I don’t need you. I need the Nephilim. The _world_ needs him.”

“Okay,” Nick said slowly. “Let’s talk.”

She hurried down the steps and came to a stop at the bottom in front of Nick, who was appraising her.

“Through here,” he said. “Dean, go get Jack.”

Dean was surprised by the instruction as they had no idea what was going on, but Nick gave him a pointed look that communicated that he was thinking ahead of him and his confusion.

Dean rushed down the hall to Jack’s room and went in without knocking. Jack was lying on the bed listening to his iPod through the noise-canceling headphones Dean had brought him. He looked surprised as Dean entered, and he tugged them off. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure,” Dean said quietly. “Violet, the reaper that was with Sam in Vegas, is here. She said she needs you, and she’s being weird. She doesn’t seem to know Sam isn’t Lucifer. I think we need to listen to what she’s got to say.”

Jack dropped his headphones onto the bed and said, “Is Castiel back?”

“No, but…” He considered and then nodded. “I think he needs to be.”

As much as he wanted Sam to have the support he needed, he had a feeling that Castiel should be here for this. He also thought Sam might be good to have around, but he didn’t want to drag him into this before he was ready. Whatever Nick was thinking meant there was probably trouble coming, and they needed Castiel here for that.

He raised his voice and said, “Cas, I know you’re with Sam, but we need you back here for a while. Violet has shown up, and she’s looking for Jack. She’s talking about the world needing him.”

“The world?” Jack said, brow furrowed. “But the world is safe now. Sam killed Michael!”

Dean’s mouth dropped open. Sam had killed Michael, it was over apart from his grace-enhanced monsters, and Sam was the best threat against them compared to a powered-down Nephilim. He thought he saw now what Nick had probably seen straight away.

Violet wasn’t there for help. She was there for trouble, though he wasn’t sure who the trouble was for.

“Okay, Jack,” he said, “come with me and be on your guard. I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I don’t think it’s good. Let Nick and me do the talking.” Though he planned to let Nick do most of it since he was the one that had the analytical mind and ability to hide emotions when he needed to.

They walked back to the library where Nick had seated himself opposite Violet at the table, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Nick looked suitably curious, but there was mistrust in his eyes that Dean thought Violet would miss, not knowing him.

Violet looked around as they entered, and her gaze followed them as they came to join her and Nick at the table. Following Nick’s lead, Dean poured himself a drink and sat down beside her, Jack taking a seat with Nick. 

“So, what’s going on?” Nick asked. “Why do you need Jack?”

Violet drew a breath and began speaking, sounding as though she was making a confession. “I’ve been helping Lucifer for weeks, ever since Billie ordered me to. He was weak at the start, and he didn’t seem to know how to use his power at all, but I taught him.” She winced. “I didn’t understand what had happened to him, why he needed my help, and his own explanation made no sense, but I did what I was told.”

Nick leaned forward slightly. “What was his explanation?”

Violet looked apologetic as she looked at Dean. “He said he was Sam Winchester, your brother.”

Dean was surprised he'd told her the truth, but he thought he could understand why. Sam would have been completely alone, confused, and probably scared, and he would have needed someone to help him. Billie had apparently known the truth, but none of their experiences of Billie made Dean think she would have been a comfort to him.

“Okay,” Nick said, his face inscrutable. “And now you need us, why?”

“I need Jack,” she said. “He’s the only one…”

She stopped as there was a faint rustle and Castiel appeared. He looked from face to face, his eyes settling on Violet, and there was a flash of shock before his face became wary, and he said, "Violet, what are you doing here?" as he walked to stand at the end of the table.

“I have come for help,” she said. “I need the Nephilim.”

“His name is Jack,” Nick said pointedly.

She nodded. “Yes, Jack. He’s the only one that I think can…” She looked stricken. “I think I’ve done something terrible.”

Dean saw a flash of something in Castiel’s eyes that looked almost like amusement before it disappeared as he said. “Nothing I know of you and your reputation makes me believe that, Violet.”

She smiled slightly. “I was following orders…”

“Then you did nothing wrong,” Nick stated. “But why do you need Jack?”

“Lucifer is back,” she said. “That you know, and I think you also knew he was hunting Michael, but now…”

“Michael is dead,” Dean said.

“Yes, I heard,” she said. “But that just means there is still one, even more dangerous, threat to us all. Lucifer is going to destroy the world.”

Jack's eyes widened, and he looked like he was going to say something, but Castiel laid a hand on his shoulder and said, "We knew that was a potential risk when Michael was stopped. What is he planning?"

Dean managed to control his expression at Castiel’s obvious lie, but Jack wasn’t as successful. Dean thought he understood. Jack had no connection to Sam, and he’d already said he struggled not to see his father’s face when he looked at Sam. He was the one person among them that might still believe Sam could be dangerous to the world.

“I don’t know the specifics, he’s not told me much, but I know that he plans to utilize Michael’s monsters along with his demons.”

“What do you think we can do?” Nick asked, his voice suitably worried though there was anger in his eyes.

“It’s Jack that we need,” Violet said. “And we can’t delay. Lucifer must be stopped now before his plan can be put into action.”

“I don’t have the power to fight him,” Jack said. “I’m not strong enough. Lucifer took my grace.”

“I know,” she said. “But there might be a way to get you more power. Another angel’s grace.”

Castiel nodded solemnly. “That could work. He can take mine.”

“Cas, no!” Jack said, eyes wide and horrified.

“If this is what it takes, Jack, it’s what we have to do,” Castiel said stiffly. He fixed his eyes on Violet and said, “Do you know where Lucifer is now?”

“No, but we can find him if he calls me back to him. When he does, I can sense his location. He won’t know I have come to you for help, so he still trusts me to be on his side; I have told him I am.”

“Why won’t Billie stop him?” Nick asked. “She’s the most powerful being out there now.”

“She says it’s not her job,” Violet replied.

Castiel moved around the table and placed a hand on Violet’s shoulder. “Thank you for coming to us, Violet. I know you must have been scared.”

“I still am,” Violet said anxiously. “Lucifer will kill me if he finds out I came to you. We have to act fast.”

“We will,” Castiel said. “I know exactly what we have to do.”

He made an awkward movement with his hand, and his blade dropped into it. He raised it and slammed it down on the back of Violet’s head. She fell forwards, but instead of falling unconscious as Dean expected, she blinked a few times as if clearing her vision and then rose swiftly.

They all jumped to their feet, Dean calling Castiel’s name as Nick shoved Jack back and rounded the table.

Violet grabbed Castiel's arm and made a jerking movement with her hand. Dean heard a sick cracking sound, and Castiel groaned as the blade dropped from his hand. Dean made a grab for it, but Violet was faster. She snatched it up and lifted it so that the point was pressed against Castiel’s throat.

Her eyes glowed with blue-white grace, and she thrust out a hand that drove Jack into the wall, and Nick and Dean over the table to crumple on the floor. Dean tried to get up, but his head swam.

She tilted her head to the side. “What tipped you off?”

“We know Lucifer isn’t here anymore,” Castiel said, his voice strained. “Chuck told us what happened.”

Her lips parted. “God told you…” She shook her head, apparently dismissing the news, and frowned. "You know he's Sam, and yet you're _all_ still here together?”

“What do you mean?” Nick asked.

She laughed. “You still don’t know? Never mind. None of you Winchesters are going to live long now anyway. It’s the Nephilim I need.”

She pressed the tip of the blade into Castiel’s throat, just breaking the skin, and Dean cried out in shock as he tried to get around the table to help, but before he could do more than take a step, there was a sound like sails caught in the wind and a roar of anger then a sick thunk and cracking sound.

Dean blinked blearily and saw Sam standing over the unconscious Violet, his blade in his hand, and a smear of blood on the handle. He seemed to radiate fury, and Dean thought he saw a shimmer in the air spreading from Sam’s back that was the shape of wings.

Sam was every inch the avenging angel at that moment, and Dean didn’t think he’d ever looked more deadly.


	10. Chapter 10

Nick had seen Sam angry, he’d been thrown across a room by him even, but he’d never seen him like this before. The power he radiated made the hairs on the back of Nick’s neck prickle. He wasn’t scared, he’d never fear his brother again now he knew who he really was, but he was wary.

Dean looked just as cautious as he approached Sam slowly. “Uh… Sammy… you okay?”

Sam nodded stiffly and seemed to struggle to gain control over himself. He took a deep breath and then turned to Castiel. “You left it a bit late on the call. You said it was nothing to worry about when you took off.”

“I didn’t think it was,” Castiel said. “I thought I could handle it myself, that you could have a little more space.”

Sam nodded and then looked around the room, his eyes falling on Dean, and a frown creased his brow. “She hurt you,” he stated.

“Just threw us around a little,” Dean said. “Got a headache, but that’ll pass.”

"No, it won't," Sam said, something that worried Nick in his tone. What was he seeing in their brother that made him sound like that? Was Dean seriously hurt?

Sam rounded the unconscious body on the floor and pressed his fingers to Dean’s temple.

Though his touch was obviously gentle, Dean grimaced as the light glowed and then breathed out in a sigh. “Thanks, Sammy.”

Sam turned his attention on Nick, his face strangely neutral, and then moved to him and touched his temple. He seemed more hesitant than he had been with Dean, and Nick thought he could feel Sam’s tension in his touch. He had to remind himself that it was natural for Sam to struggle; not only had he been through hell and then lived with the fact that his family had seen him as the enemy, but Nick had also stabbed him and tried to send him to the Cage.

“Thanks, Sam,” he said with a smile as Sam stepped back, receiving a small nod in return.

Castiel was helping Jack to his feet and healing him, too, but he looked around as Sam asked, “You need help, Cas?”

Castiel shook his head. “My arm is already healed. I don’t understand how she was able to break it. A reaper should never be strong enough to unless…” He shook his head, looking annoyed. “She was one of Michael’s, wasn’t she?”

“Yes,” Sam said. “He obviously dosed her with grace, too.”’

“I didn’t know that was possible,” Castiel said.

“Me either.” Sam ran a hand through his hair. “We’ve got to deal with her before she wakes up.”

“Are you going to kill her?” Nick asked.

"Not yet," Sam said. "Maybe not at all. The final call on what happens to her is Billie's. I want to interrogate her before I hand her over, though. I'm not sure how long she was working with Michael, I can't pinpoint a time when she was with me that she seemed different, but hopefully, she’ll know something about his monsters that I can use.”

“We can lock her down in the dungeon,” Dean suggested. “We’ve got angel cuffs that might work if she’s got grace in her. We’ve got miles of chains and ropes that we can use, too. Hell, we’ll put the demon shackles on her. I get that the warding won’t help, but they’re still solid enough to hold someone strong.”

“We can use a reaper trap, too,” Nick said. “Alastair put Tessa in one once, and it seemed pretty damn strong.”

A curious look of annoyance spread across Sam's face, and then he nodded. "Cas, can you draw the trap? Dean, get me the cuffs. I don't know how long she'll be out."

“I’ll get the chains ready,” Nick said when it became obvious Sam wasn’t going to give him any instructions.

“Perhaps you should lie down, Jack,” Castiel suggested. “I know you’re healed, but I don’t think you should be here when Violet wakes up.”

There was something in his gaze that made Nick think Castiel could see Jack was struggling with something. Perhaps the initial fear Violet had brought when she’d been discussing Lucifer, perhaps seeing Sam so angry—so much like an archangel. Whatever it was, Nick thought it was good that Castiel was giving Jack an out.

They all parted, leaving Sam in the library with Violet, Dean heading for the cupboard where they’d left the cuffs, Jack making his way to his bedroom, and Nick and Castiel going to the storeroom for the chains and paint for the trap.

When they were in the storeroom, hopefully far away enough from the library for Sam to not overhear them, Nick said, “You were with Sam a long time.”

“I was.”

“Did everything go okay?”

Castiel stopped with a can of paint in his hand and looked at Nick. The intensity in his gaze made Nick want to squirm. Castiel hadn’t looked at him like this since the early days after they’d first met, when Nick had been nothing more than the boy with the demon blood.

“Cas?” he said, confusion furrowing his brow. “You okay?”

Castiel smiled briefly. “Yes, Nick, everything is fine. You don’t need to worry.”

Nick snorted. “Sure, we’re locking down a reaper in the dungeon, one that wants my brother dead, but we shouldn’t worry.”

“Sam is a fully-powered archangel; he is in no danger from a mere reaper. In fact, he is in no danger from anyone now that Michael is dead.”

Nick grinned, reassured. Sam was vulnerable emotionally, that was obvious, but there was no physical threat to at least one of his brothers.

Castiel patted Nick’s shoulder and left the room with the can of paint in his hand. Nick unhooked a length of chain and wrapped it around his arm then pocketed a heavy padlock from the shelf.

They met Sam in the hall outside the dungeon. He had Violet slung over his shoulder, and his face was stony.

Nick gestured him into the room ahead of him and then followed him in. Sam dropped Violet onto the floor, took the proffered handcuffs from Dean and cinched them around her wrists tight enough that Nick could see them cutting into the flesh.

"Uh, Sam," Nick said as there was a soft moan, and Violet blinked blearily.

Sam looked down at her, then bent over and calmly slammed a fist into her temple again. She rocked back, and her eyes fell closed again. There was no indication from Sam that he had done anything dramatic at all. His voice was neutral as he said, “You ready, Cas?”

“I’m nearly done,” Castiel said. He sprayed in one last sigil and then touched his fingers to the edge of the trap and checked them for paint. “It’s dry.”

Dean carried a chair to the center and set it down, then said, "You need help, Sam?"

Sam shook his head and hauled Violet up, then dumped her in the chair and reached back to Nick. "Chains," he said without looking at him.

Nick handed them over, and Sam began to wrap them around Violet's chest, trapping her cuffed wrists in her lap. When the chains were all used, Nick gave him the padlock, and Sam cinched it into place.

“What next?” Dean asked.

Sam stared at Violet for a moment and then said, “You sleep. I’ll stay in the bunker. Give her a night alone, and then I'll come back with my questions tomorrow."

“What questions?” Nick asked. “I thought you already knew it all.”

Sam answered without meeting his eye. “I want to get some information out of her about the monsters Michael enhanced. I’m hoping she’ll know where I can find them. She sent me to the places they’d been, the bodies he left behind, so she knows something. That might have just been Michael feeding me information through her, keeping me busy, or she might know more.”

“Okay,” Dean said, shooting Nick a quick glance. “We should probably sleep. Oh! Crap! Mom is here. We’ll tell her what’s going on. She’ll need to sleep, too.”

Sam looked confused, but Nick understood. Dean was warning Sam that Mary was there while reassuring him that he would have his space. He probably didn’t want to, but he was as committed as Nick was to waiting for Sam to come to them when he was ready. Persuading Mary to do the same while Sam was in the bunker was going to be more of a challenge.

“We’ll see you in the morning,” Dean said. “There’s a whole library full of books if you get bored. You still a reader?”

Sam's lips quirked into a small smile. “Yeah, Dean, I’m a reader.”

Dean seemed pleased by his reaction. He grinned, said goodnight to Sam and Castiel then left the room, tugging Nick’s arm so he’d follow.

“Night, Sam,” Nick said at the door.

There was something flat in his voice as Sam answered. “Goodnight, Nick.”

xXx

“I need your help.”

It was Chuck’s voice that spoke, but the face was not that of the man Nick had met. He was formed wholly of a blue-white light that Nick was sure should blind him, but he could see it clearly.

“What do I need to do?” he asked, devotion rich in his voice.

“My sister must be stopped. She destroys all that I create, and I need you and your brothers to help me. It’s going to be difficult, but there are worlds that need to be born.” His hand touched Nick’s, filling him with warmth and a rush of love. “It’s going to be the hardest of all for you. You will have to carry the weight…”

“I’ll do it,” Nick said without hesitation. “Whatever you need.”

Chuck smiled down at him, making him feel a wave of intense love that filled him. “It’s going to be a battle for us all, and for you much longer than for us. You know how powerful she is. You’re going to need to be strong, so, so strong, to resist her influence.”

“I can do it,” Nick vowed.

Chuck touched his face, sending a wave of warmth through him, “I know you can. You’re the only one I can trust with this, Lucifer…”

The name pierced Nick like a knife, and he cried out in pain. “No! I’m not Lucifer! I’m Nick.”

Chuck smiled at him again, not seeming to have heard Nick’s protest. “You’re a good son, Lucifer.”

“No!” he cried. “I’m Nick!”

There was a soft laugh behind him, and he turned. Amara stood there, her long black dress brushing the floor and her hands folded in front of her stomach. “Hello, Lucifer.”

“I’m Nick!” There was more anger than pain in his voice now.

She walked towards him, her hand reaching for him, and Nick backed away. She came faster, and Nick began to run. He sprinted away, coming to the ledge over a dark abyss. He could hear her getting closer, knew she was almost there and that when she reached him, it was going to hurt.

“Lucifer…” she crooned.

Nick jumped into the darkness. He fell for a long time, wind rushing around his face and making his eyes squeeze shut, then he landed with a thud, and the air was knocked out of him.

He heard a growl of anger and a whimper, and then a voice that he knew spoke.

He got to his feet and turned around. Michael was bowed over a shape on the floor. He’d shed his vessel, standing tall in his true form, and in his hand was a long blade.

He stepped aside, and Nick saw the shape was actually two people, huddled close together. One was Adam Milligan, Michael’s vessel, and the other was his brother. Sam.

“Hello, Lucifer,” Michael said.

“No,” Nick breathed. “This isn’t real. I’m Nick!”

Sam looked up at him and smiled with chapped and bloody lips. “Now you are, but to me, you’re always going to be Lucifer!”

Nick sucked in a deep breath and screamed. It ripped up his throat and poured from him, sending his pain and fear into the air, and then something pressed down on his mouth and blocked the sound.

Nick's eyes flew open, and he saw Sam standing over him with his hand pressed to Nick's mouth. His expression was strained, and he spoke in a growl. “You’re going to wake them up. Do you want that?”

Nick shook his head.

“Can you control yourself?”

Nick nodded.

Sam removed his hand, and Nick drew a deep breath as he sat up.

“Thank you, Sam,” he said.

Sam straightened up and stepped away. “You were having another nightmare," he said, then seemed to force the next words from himself, "Do you want to talk about it?" 

“No, I…” Nick stared into his brother's face, the face that he'd seen in his dream as a victim, not family, and then said, "I think I need to."

He knew he should talk to Dean, the brother without the pressures and traumas of Sam, but the nightmare was so close, and he was so scared.

The name that had been given to him in his dream seemed more real to him in that moment than his own. He needed reassurance from someone who could understand that, and Sam had been called that same name himself recently. Nick had to talk to Sam, even if it went against the plan to give Sam space and time to heal.

“I dreamed of Lucifer, Sam,” he said. “But not the way I used to. It’s like I _am_ him. It feels so real. I think that’s what I dreamed last time, too.”

Sam flinched and averted his eyes.

“Sorry,” Nick said. “You don’t need to hear this.”

“No, it’s okay.” Sam bit his lip then said, without looking at Nick, “I think you need to forget about it. They’re just dreams.” 

“I know,” Nick said, a little too fast to be believable.

Even though he knew logically that Sam was right, there was a part of him that was scared there might be more to those dreams. He looked at his brother, Sam’s face stony, and took comfort in it. That was Sam Winchester, Nick’s older brother. He might be struggling to be around him now, for good reasons, but Sam wouldn’t lie to Nick.

“Go back to sleep, Nick,” Sam said. “I’ve got to get back to Violet.”

Nick stared at him and said, “Yeah, sure. Thanks, Sam.”

Sam smiled slightly, though it looked forced, and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.

Nick watched him walk toward the door and spoke up as he touched the handle “Sam, don’t tell Dean and Mom about this. I don’t want them to worry.”

There was something in Sam’s eyes as he turned back to answer that gave Nick pause. It was like it was hurting him physically to say it. “Don’t worry, Nick, I won’t tell them. They don’t need to know.”

He slipped out of the door and pulled it closed behind him. Nick laid down again and closed his eyes. He was still tired, and he knew he should sleep, but he was scared of falling into another nightmare. The one he’d just had scared him more than anything he’d been through in his life, even the Cage, as he didn’t feel like himself in those dreams. He felt like he really was Lucifer. 

Those nightmares left him genuinely terrified.


	11. Chapter 11

“Sam,” Castiel said tentatively.

Sam looked up from his folded hands. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

Sam looked at the grey brick wall, his thoughts musing as he said, “You know, I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately, Cas. When you thought I was Lucifer, you were all business, the protector, just like Nick was. That reminded me of how you were when I first met you, back when you intimidated the crap out of me. When you decided I was Sam the vessel, not Lucifer, you changed, eased up, became more like you were after the apocalypse.”

“And what am I now?” Castiel asked curiously, a small smile playing around his mouth.

“You’re family again.”

Castiel nodded solemnly. “I am.”

Sam smiled widely. “Exactly. And that’s what’s making it easier for me to be okay. I mean, I’m back in my home, my family are close, but none of that helps because they don’t really know me. Having you here is what helps.”

He’d expected Castiel to be pleased, to smile again, but he frowned, and his eyes became mournful. “It makes me sad that it’s so hard for you.”

Sam huffed a laugh. “Me too, really. But it’s better than it was, and I…”

He cut off as he heard a deeply drawn breath and then a soft laugh.

Both his and Castiel’s attention fell upon the chained and trapped reaper as she opened her eyes and said, “Wow. I didn’t really believe Michael when he told me, but it’s all true, isn’t it? Nick Winchester is the devil.” Her face broke into a beatific smile. “And you’re the real hero, Sam.”

Castiel looked stunned. “He told you?”

“He did,” she said. “I thought he was screwing with me, but now I see. No wonder you needed angel lessons, Sam. No wonder you were clueless.” She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it. And I was _so_ scared of you…” She laughed. “This is too perfect!”

“So, you know,” Sam said calmly. “It doesn’t change anything. You’re still here, trapped, and you’re still going to tell me what I want to know.”

“I’m really not,” she said.

“You are,” Castiel said. “You’re a reaper; you have never known pain in your life. We are going to make you talk.”

Sam held up a hand to him as he heard something reaching him through the halls of the bunker. “What’s that?” he asked.

Castiel frowned. “What’s what?”

“You won’t hear it, Castiel,” Violet said. “You need a touch of an archangel to hear from that far away. You’re stunted.” She turned to Sam. “You know what it is. What are you going to do?”

Sam did know what he was hearing and what it meant. Nick was having another nightmare, and it sounded bad. As for what he was going to do, he didn’t really feel he had a choice.

“Stay here, Cas,” he said, striding from the room.

“Where are you going?” Castiel asked.

“It’s Nick.”

“Sam…” Castiel said, coming after him and touching his arm.

Sam stopped and said, “If I don’t go help him, he’s going to wake them all up, Cas, and he won’t want that.”

Castiel’s looked puzzled. “You care what he’d want?”

Sam shrugged and deflected, “I care about Dean.”

He left the room and clicked the door closed behind him then silently ran along he halls to the room that had been his own. He could hear no sounds from the rooms he passed that indicated that the others were awake, and he was glad. He found he did care what Nick wanted, though he didn’t understand why or even want to care. More than that, though: he was concerned about the fact Dean would be upset if he saw his brother suffer through another nightmare. He had been stressed to breaking point when he’d called Sam last time; Sam didn’t want him to go through that again.

He pushed open Nick’s door and then quickly closed it again to muffle the sounds of cries. Nick wasn’t screaming as he had last time. His sounds were more guttural and pained.

Sam walked to the side of the bed and shook his shoulder. “Wake up!”

Nick jostled but didn’t wake and then said in a strained moan. “I’m Nick!”

Sam shook him again, and then Nick began to scream. It was a primal sound that Sam hadn't heard since he'd been in the Cage, when the scream had been his own. He pressed his knuckles to Nick's sternum and ground them in; at the same time, he slapped his hand to Nick's mouth to stifle the sounds he was making.

Nick’s eyes flew open and fixed on Sam standing over him, the scream still ripping from him.

“You’re going to wake them up. Do you want that?” Sam growled.

Nick's scream cut off, and he shook his head.

“Can you control yourself?”

Nick nodded.

Sam removed his hand, and Nick drew a deep breath and sat up. “Thank you, Sam,” he said.

Sam straightened fully and stepped away. “You were having another nightmare," he said, then went on, forcing the words from himself as his wants battled what he knew was right, “Do you want to talk about it?”

He didn't want to hear about Nick's nightmare, but the way he looked, vulnerable and scared, made him feel he might need to. No matter what Sam felt about Nick now, he was Dean's family, and that made him important, even to Sam. He wanted to help him because of that, for Dean, but it was still hard.

“No, I…” Nick stared at him, seeming to see something there that softened his eyes into what Sam was reluctant to call love. “I think I need to,” he finished.

Nick stared down at his hands for a moment, looking as though he was battling with himself, with something Sam didn’t understand. Then he seemed to steel himself and looked up at Sam again.

“I dreamed of Lucifer, Sam,” he said. “But not the way I used to. It’s like I am him. It feels so real. I think that’s what I dreamed last time, too.”

Sam couldn’t stop himself from flinching, but he looked away before Nick could see his reaction in his face.

This had to be what Amara had done. She’d somehow unlocked something in Nick that was bringing the truth to the fore. Part of Sam was overwhelmed with relief, the truth might come out, but the selfless part of him knew that was wrong. This was just the truth coming out for Nick. No one else would know, which meant nothing would change apart from the fact Nick would be confused and in pain. 

“Sorry,” Nick said. “You don’t need to hear this.”

“No, it’s okay." Sam bit his lip, then said, “I think you need to forget about it. They’re just dreams.” 

“I know,” Nick said quickly, but Sam heard the lie in his voice.

Sam’s heart and mind screamed at him, each pulling him in different directions—what he wanted opposing what was right—and then Gabriel’s voice chimed in and made it so much harder.

_Seriously, Sam? You can take self-sacrifice too far, you know. If you want it back, your life, this is the only way you’re getting in.”_

Needing to get away, Sam said, “Go to sleep, Nick. I’ve got to get back to Violet.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, Sam.”

Sam forced a smile and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.

He felt Nick’s eyes on him as he walked to the door, and then Nick said, “Sam, don’t tell Dean and Mom about this. I don’t want them to worry.”

Sam turned back to him as he answered, the words dragged from him in a way that hurt. “Don’t worry, Nick, I won’t tell them. They don’t need to know.”

Sam slipped out of the room, closed the door, and then rested his forehead against the wood and sighed.

 _You know you’re nuts, right?_ Gabriel said conversationally. _It is physically hurting you to be stuck in this situation, and Amara has given you an out, but you’re supporting Nick instead of encouraging him to explore the truth. What was the point in any of it if you’re not going to use what she’s done for you?_

Sam ignored him and strode back to the dungeon. Castiel was waiting with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes neutral as he looked at Violet, who was watching him in return with amusement. 

“Are you okay?” Castiel asked. “What happened?”

Sam started to nod and then stopped. There was no need to keep any of it hidden from Castiel. He was the only one in Sam’s life now that knew the whole truth and cared about him for who he really was, not as a memory created by Chuck.

“Come out here a moment,” he said, walking back out into the hall.

Castiel followed, and Sam clicked the door closed behind them, Violet's muffled laughter reaching him through the wood. He knew she was going to hear them, but he didn’t want to witness her reactions as he said it.

“It was a nightmare?” Castiel asked.

“Yes.”

Castiel looked frustrated. “Then why didn’t you ask me to go?”

Sam ran a hand over his face. “Honestly, Cas, I don’t know. I didn’t want him waking everyone else up, getting them all worked up again. I figured I could fix it without that.”

“And what did it feel like for you?”

“Like it did before. Actually, no, it felt a little different, easier.” Sam sighed. “He’s dreaming of being Lucifer again. I didn’t look to see what it was, but he told me some. I told him to forget it.”

“ _Why_ , Sam?” Castiel’s voice was filled with exasperation. “If this is the wheel Amara set turning, it could be how you get your life back. It could be what breaks the spell.”

“But it can’t,” Sam said miserably. “Maybe he’ll remember who he really is and what he has done, but what will that achieve? It’s not going to change things for Dean, Jack, or my mom. They’ll still remember him as Nick. It solves nothing for me. Chuck can’t control any of us now, but he put a powerful spell in place before he cut the strings. Nick’s part of it might break, but it won’t help anyone else. And if Nick does remember who he is…” He looked Castiel in the eye. “You know him better than me. What will that do to him?”

Castiel’s face fell. “To him as Nick, not Lucifer? It would break him apart.”

“Exactly, and that’s going to hurt them all in the long run. I _want_ my life back, I want them all to know who I am, and I don’t want to deal with him, but I don’t want that to come at the expense of the people I love.”

Castiel grabbed Sam’s shoulders and tried to shake him. All he managed to do was jostle him slightly. “If you don’t stop this, you will be the one breaking apart.”

“I’m strong,” Sam said. “And I can’t hurt them as much as Nick can. They all lost me a long time ago; they’re just trying to get something back now. They know and love him. They have lives with him. If he suffers, they’ll suffer. If it’s me…” He pressed his fingers to his temples. “If it’s me, they’ll be able to handle it.”

“Then what are you going to do?” Castiel asked. “You can’t stay like this, Sam.”

“What would you do if you were me? If you had to choose between your family being in pain or you living a lie, what would you do?”

Castiel stared at him for a moment and then sighed. “I love Nick. Part of me hates that I do, but I have no choice in it. I have fought beside him for years, lived with him, seen him at his best and his worst, just like he’s seen me at mine.”

“I know,” Sam said quietly.

“But I also love you, and I know those memories, that bond, is real. I don’t want Nick to suffer, but I want you to suffer even less.”

Sam laid a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You also love Dean and my mom, Cas. If Nick gets to live his life with them still with me here on the periphery as the man they think I am, they get to be happy. If the truth comes out, they’ll be hurting, which means I will, too.”

Castiel fisted his hands and looked down a long time. Sam knew he was seeing the truth, seeing it and hating it the same way Sam did.

Sam patted his arm and then went back into the dungeon where Violet was grinning at him. He knew she’d heard what they’d been saying, but he wasn’t worried about her taunts. There were many more powerful things in his life that were hurting him now. 

Castiel came in behind him and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“That was touching,” she said. “Really. I knew the Winchester bonds went deep, but I figured that would work the other way around. I thought you’d be fighting to get back what you lost. Instead, you’re sacrificing yourself for them.”

Sam moved closer to her and grabbed her shoulders, tilting the chair back so it was balanced on two legs. “I want something from you, and you’re going to give it.

“Why would I give you anything?” she asked derisively.

“Because I am telling you to,” a smooth voice said.

Sam dropped the chair, and it fell back onto the floor with a bang, Violet’s head hitting the floor hard. He spun around and saw Billie standing beside Castiel. Her dark eyes were narrowed and her lips a thin line.

“Get her up, Sam,” she ordered.

Sam grabbed Violet by the throat and hauled her up so that the chair was on four legs again. He stepped back and looked at Billie, whose gaze was fixed on Violet, who was now obviously terrified.

“Violet,” Billie said. “We need to talk.”

Violet flinched. “Yes.”

“You and I have much to discuss,” Billie went on with a hint of menace in her voice, “and we will have eons to do it. You know I like to take my time. Sam’s concerns are more pressing than mine for now, though. Sam?”

Sam fixed his eyes on Violet and said, “Where are Michael’s monsters?”

She licked her lips. “They’re spread out all over the world.”

Sam knew that already; he'd traced the failed experiments that Michael had left behind. He'd hoped for more direct information, though.

“How do I find them?” he asked.

She flinched, and her eyes darted to Billie as she answered. "I don’t know. Michael gave them instructions to spread out and be ready for his orders.”

“What were his orders going to be?” Sam asked.

When she didn’t answer, Billie spoke her name in a warning tone, and she winced and spoke in a rush. “They were to gather in capital cities and attack at the right time. They were to kill and change as many as they could.” She drew a quick breath. “They were to build the army.”

Sam closed his eyes for a moment as he felt the tentative relief that was quickly overcome with tension again. Michael couldn’t have given the order as they would have heard about that kind of mass chaos in the world. But if they knew Michael was dead the way Violet had known, they might strike on their own. He needed to find them fast.

“You can find them, Sam,” Billie said. “And you have someone that can help.” Her eyes moved to Violet. “You still feel the connection.”

Violet nodded. “Yes, I can communicate with them, but they won’t obey me the way they did Michael. I was just his general.”

“Generals give orders,” Castiel stated.

“Generals give orders in a garrison,” she corrected. “These aren’t soldiers. They’re monsters.”

"You can still find them, though," Billie said. "You will know where they are, and you can tell Sam.”

Violet nodded slightly. “I can.”

“And you will,” Billie instructed. “Then, when the last of the monsters have been destroyed, you and I can begin our own discussions.” She looked at Sam. “You will find a way to make it work. I have faith.”

“I know," Sam said seriously. "Thank you."

Billie watched Violet for a moment and then said, “Castiel, I need to speak to Sam. Watch her. Sam, go somewhere private. I’ll find you.”

Sam nodded to Castiel and then took flight. He came to a stop in the center of the 100 Mile Wilderness under a canopy of trees and among the night sounds of animals and a light breeze. He was alone for less than a second before Billie appeared beside him.

“Can I trust her?” he asked instantly.

“Yes. She won’t lie to you, but she will try to delay you. She knows that as soon as you’re done with her that I’ll take her. You’re going to need to be imaginative in how you motivate her.”

“You mean torture?” Sam asked.

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“As long as I’m the only one that has to do it, no. I don’t want anyone else to have a part in it. I don’t want Dean involved.”

“Of course, you don’t. I see that you have unlocked Castiel’s memories. I felt the pulse and change in the spell when you did. Has he told you that you can’t do it to anyone else?”

“Yes. I know I can’t have Dean back.”

She frowned at him. “I already knew it was bad, that’s why I wanted to speak to you, but I see now it’s worse. You’ve given up.”

Sam could have defended himself, explained that he’d not given up at all, just knew what he had to do now for the sake of his family, but there was no point. This wasn’t like Castiel, who was family. Billie wasn’t more than an ally, if she was even that.

“After God brought you back, I spent some time in my reading room,” she said. “Your end has changed.”

“There’s an end again?” Sam asked. He’d figured that when Michael was taken out of the game and he’d taken the archangel blades that his story was left open for good. “Who’s it going to be this time?”

She fixed her timeless eyes on him and said, “You are the end now.”

Sam glared at her. “I’m not going to kill myself. I’d never do that to them.”

“No? Perhaps not while they are alive, but when they’re gone? When it’s just you, Castiel, and Jack left, maybe many years from now, will you keep going?”

"Yes," Sam said. "I wouldn't do it to Cas, either."

She raised an eyebrow. “My books are never wrong, Sam. The story of your end comes at your own hands. I know how your grace will be spent.”

“And my soul?” Sam asked. “What happens to that? I’ve got both.”

“I don’t know. Your grace is the most potent part of you, Sam; that is what marks your death now.”

Sam shrugged. “I’m not worried. If it’s me that does it, I am the one in control of it, which means it won’t happen.”

She surveyed him for a moment and then smiled. “If that’s what you need to believe, I won’t say any more. I’ll leave you to get back to Violet and Castiel. You might want to start tracking those monsters straight away. There are a lot of them, and _they_ may be waiting for the order to attack, but they’re not waiting for the order to feed. You have one advantage, though; you will be able to sense them when they're close. Use it.”

Without another word, she disappeared, and Sam was left alone in the darkness. He just absorbed the sounds around him for a moment, and then took flight back to the bunker.

He would question Violet, hunt the monsters, and…

 _What are you going to do about the whole suicide thing?_ Gabriel asked. _You want to talk that out with someone? Castiel maybe?_

“No,” Sam growled.

No one needed to know as it would never happen.


	12. Chapter 12

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said, striding into the library.

Castiel looked up from the map he had spread across the table and set down the pen he’d been about to mark it with. “Good morning, Dean.”

“Sammy with Violet?”

Castiel shook his head.

Dean’s smiled faltered. “He’s gone?”

“He left early to find some of Michael’s monsters in Tibet.”

“Sam’s in Tibet!” Dean shook his head. “That’s crazy.”

Castiel considered a moment and then smiled. “I imagine it does seem strange to you. We had an eventful night, though, so he needed to go. Billie came, and she… _encouraged_ Violet to help us. She gave up the first location of Michael’s experiments, and Sam set out to find them. Billie also suggested a way that Sam can use his grace to trace them the way he can an archangel.”

Dean was disappointed. He’d woken feeling good about the fact he might get to spend some time with Sam, even on the periphery if that was all he gave him.

Castiel saw his disappointment and went on in what he probably thought was a comforting tone, “He will come back.”

“I know,” Dean said, too quickly for it to be believable.

Castiel looked sympathetic. “It must be very difficult for you all to be so close but to not have him here. It’s difficult for him, too.”

“Yeah, it is, but…” Dean frowned as the meaning of Castiel's words sank in, and he realized what he was saying. “Wait. Sam’s talking to _you_ about how he feels?”

Dean was surprised Sam would open up to Castiel. He’d had the least chance to bond with Sam of any of them before Lucifer took him. Chuck had thought he might, but Dean had thought he knew Sam better than that.

Perhaps he had once. They’d been so close before, but so much had changed about Sam. It wasn’t just the fact he was an archangel now; he was also a different man at the same time. It made him sad that Castiel was succeeding with Sam, where he wasn't given a chance.

“He is,” Castiel said, and there was something in his tone that Dean thought was pain.

"He's okay, though, right?” he asked, concern furrowing his brow. “Obviously, it’s tough for him, but he’s okay?”

“He will be.” Castiel turned his attention back to the map and drew a cross over Tibet.

Dean wanted to know more, but he felt a barrier between himself and Castiel that he’d not felt in a long time. It was strange, but he didn’t feel he could ask for more. Castiel was like a brother to him, and he trusted him with his life, the same way he knew Castiel trusted him, but this was about Sam, and Castiel wasn’t volunteering the information. There had to be a reason.

As curious as he was, he held back from questioning further. This was another instance of him needing to give Sam space.

He moved closer to the table and looked at the spot Castiel had marked. “You going to be tracking them a country at a time?”

“It depends on where Violet directs us,” Castiel said. “Sam isn’t practiced enough to be able to lock on to them spread across the world. He needs a location to start with. I think it will get easier for him as time goes on, as he’ll be more powerful,” he considered, “more experienced.”

“I thought he was already powered up,” Dean said. “Chuck brought him back as a full archangel.”

“He is. He’s an incredibly powerful being now, but he doesn’t have experience with it. That will come, which will open him to his full potential power.”

Dean nodded and then looked around as he heard voices in the hall. Mary and Nick came in. Mary’s hair was damp and pulled back from her face, and her shirt wasn’t buttoned right. She looked a little harried.

“Rough night, Mom?” Dean asked.

She frowned and then looked down as he plucked the front of his own shirt. She chuckled. “I was in a hurry.” She looked around hopefully. “Is Sam with Violet?”

Dean felt like it was his fault when her face fell into sadness as he said, "He's in Tibet, chasing down some of Michael's monsters." He hurried to reassure her, hoping to bring back her smile. "He'll be back soon, though. He's got to come to get the next location from Violet."

Nick patted Mary’s arm and said, “Space, remember, Mom?”

She sighed and nodded. “Yeah, space.”

"Space?" Castiel asked.

Nick rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. We’ve all agreed that we’re letting Sam come to us in his own time, only when he’s ready. We’re not pushing him for more.”

“That’s good,” Castiel said and then turned his attention on Nick, his expression unusually intense. “How are you?”

Nick frowned. “Uh, I’m fine.”

Dean examined his brother. He looked a little tense and tired. Dean wondered if he’d had another rough night. Dean had slept like a log, dreamless, and not woken until his alarm had started blaring.

Mary glanced at Nick, too, and said, “Are you sure?”

Nick smiled, and it looked genuine. “Positive.”

Mary clapped her hands together. “Okay, breakfast. What do you want?”

Dean and Nick exchanged a glance, and Nick said, "I can make us something."

Dean loved his mother and appreciated her many talents, but cooking wasn’t one of them. She had one dish that was great—Winchester Surprise—but everything else was a little unpredictable. She tried, but Dean and Nick tried to steer her away from the kitchen for anything but her specialty.

Mary gave him a suspicious look and then shrugged. “Fine. What are _you_ making?”

“Pancakes?” Nick offered.

“Sounds good,” Dean said. “You get started on them, and I’ll go see if Jack’s up yet. Since the kid lost his grace, he actually sleeps like a kid. I’ve not seen anyone go as deep as him since Nick was a teenager.”

Mary smiled between them, a little sadly. Dean guessed she was thinking of the fact that Nick’s teenage years were a part of their lives she would never know, no matter how much time they had together now. “What about Sam? What was he like?” she asked.

Dean grinned as he remembered. “He wasn’t the typical teen, or child either really. Kid was always the one banging around at the ass-crack of dawn.”

“Waking _us_ up,” Nick interjected.

“Yep,” Dean said and rubbed his stomach. “Nicky, get cooking. I’ll get Jack.” 

He went through the halls to Jack's room and knocked. There were sounds of movement inside, and then Jack called, "Yeah?"

Dean pushed open the door and said, “Nick’s making pancakes. You hungry?”

Jack looked over his shoulder from the dresser he was rooting in and said, “Sure. I’ll help him. Is everyone else up?”

“Everyone’s around but Sam. He’s in Tibet.”

Jack nodded as if there was nothing unusual about that statement at all. Dean realized there really wasn’t for him. He’d never known Sam as he was before. He’d never even had a conversation with him since Sam was brought back. Their only interaction was when Sam was Lucifer and then he had been just the vessel. 

They were all caught up in Sam, having him back and what it meant for them, and Jack would feel none of that at all. He was probably just struggling with the fact everyone around him was all twisted up with something he couldn’t understand.

Dean thought they needed to give Jack more time—or maybe he needed space too —while they dealt with Sam. Bobby would be willing to have him on a hunt, and there was no reason for them to guard him in the bunker anymore. He was in no danger as Michael was dead and Lucifer long gone. Dean would sound Nick, Castiel, and Mary out about the idea, and then make Jack the offer. Mary might want to go along to add a little family support. 

Dean headed to the kitchen where Mary was filling the coffee machine and Nick stirring batter. They weren’t speaking, but it was a comfortable silence. Dean took the plates from the cupboard and cutlery, then set the table and took a seat beside Castiel.

Nick poured batter into the skillet, and it sizzled as Mary sat opposite Dean and said, "There’s something I want to do.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Something like…?”

“The man that cast the spell—Magnus or Cuthbert, whatever his name was—I want to find him and kill him.”

Nick turned from the stove and said, “Definitely. But is now the time? I want him punished as much as anyone, but we’ve got Sam to help, and Michael’s monsters to deal with. There’s also a rogue reaper in the dungeon.”

“Exactly,” Mary said. “There’s Sam. Only we can’t help him. We can’t see him or talk to him unless he instigates it. We can’t do anything because we can't put pressure on him. We've got to let him come to us in his own time. There are Michael's monsters to deal with, yes, but Sam is taking care of them. We can deal with the ones in the States, probably, but not without him finding them for us, which means he'll be there, so he might as well take them down for us since he's so much more powerful. There's a reaper in the dungeon, but what are we supposed to do with her?”

“Nothing yet,” Castiel said. “Sam needs her to find the other monsters.”

“Exactly, _Sam_ does,” she said emphatically. “He is the one that needs to do everything.”

“Everything except Magnus,” Nick said thoughtfully. “We can handle him. I doubt Sam would even bother. He thinks Chuck did this to us all. You’re right, Mom. We can find him and kill him.” He scowled. “Dibs on his headshot. Dean got to kill Hitler, so it’s my turn this time.”

“I’ll fight you for it,” Mary said fiercely.

“We’ll all find a way to make him hurt,” Dean promised.

“We’ll have to find him first,” Nick pointed out. “He’d concealed himself pretty well last time.”

“Who are we finding?” Jack asked from the doorway.

“Magnus,” Nick said. “The one that cast the spell to take Sam out of our memories. Want in?”

Jack looked surprised. “I can come? I’m not on lockdown anymore?”

“Lockdown’s over,” Nick said. “We were trying to keep you safe from Michael before. He’s out of the picture. You’re safe.”

Jack beamed at him. “Then I definitely want to come. Is this man very dangerous?”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, disappointed that Nick had made the offer before he could talk to him about Jack joining Bobby. “He’s not physically dangerous, really. His power all comes from magic.”

“Which is pretty damn dangerous,” Nick pointed out. “He put that spell on you, Dean.”

“What spell?” Mary asked.

Dean grimaced as he remembered. “It was basically mind-control, compulsion. He wanted me to kill Nicky.”

Mary looked horrified, and Nick quickly said, "He didn't, though. Obviously. Dean beat it down.”

Dean wondered, though. How much of the resistance he'd found was because of his own strength of will, and how much was because of the combination of the Mark of Cain on his arm and the First Blade in his hand?

Nick pointed a spatula at him and said, “Quit it!”

Dean frowned. “Quit what?”

“Your moody obsessing. You took control. Magnus died. I was fine. Besides, it’s not like it was the first time one of us tried to kill the other.”

Mary gasped. “What? You’ve tried to kill each other?”

Dean sighed. "It's a long story, Mom. We're both fine, though. And the pancakes are burning."

Nick cursed and quickly turned back to the stove. He tipped the charred pancake onto a plate and added more oil.

Mary looked troubled still. “So, this man is powerful enough to make you want to kill your brother, to do a spell which managed to wipe Sam from our memories completely, and he can conceal himself from us. How hard is it going to be for us to kill him?”

“It’s not going to be easy,” Nick admitted. “But we’ve handled worse, and we have the witch killing bullets now.”

Dean grinned. “We could take the…”

“No,” Nick said, cutting him off. “We’re not taking the rocket launcher. Sure, it’d take him down, but unless we track him to a wide-open space, it will also take us down.”

Jack chuckled. “Do you really use a rocket launcher?”

“We did one time,” Dean said, smiling at the memory. “But Nicky’s right. We need something a little less destructive this time, something we can control.”

“Like Sam?” Jack suggested. "He's strong, and he's in control."

“No!” Mary said harshly, then she softened her voice as she went on. “Sam is already doing too much. Like Nick said, we’ve all handled worse. We’ll take care of it together.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t need to be a part of this,” Nick said.

Dean nodded his agreement. “We’re doing this without him being dragged in.”

Mary looked up. “Cas, are you going to… Castiel?”

Castiel had a vague look on his face: his eyes were distant, and his head was tilted to the side. He didn't seem to realize all eyes were on him until he nodded slightly, and his attention came back to the room.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked.

“Sam,” Castiel said. “I was speaking to him. He wanted me to join him.”

“Is he okay?” Mary asked.

“Yes,” Castiel said quickly. “He just needed to ask me something.”

Before they could reply, before Dean could ask why he didn’t just ask whatever it was on angel radio if he was okay, Castiel disappeared with a faint flutter. 

“Weird,” Nick muttered.

“It was Cas,” Mary said as if that was an explanation in and of itself. Which, Dean thought, it probably was.

Jack held up a plate, and Nick slid the cooked pancakes onto it before adding more batter to the skillet. Mary watched them, looking thoughtful.

Dean’s thoughts were busy, too. They had a plan now. Magnus was going to die, painfully, but Sam wasn’t going to be dragged into it. This was their fight, not his. Sam’s fight was already too big for one man.

Though maybe not too big for an archangel.

xXx

Sam was standing beside the Lhasa River. He could hear the water lapping the shore; he could hear Tibetan voices at the distant market but only as a faint murmur. He was reaching past the voices, past the sounds of the river, the town, the quiet whisper of the breeze, trying to find the sense of home he now knew was the touch of grace.

_Sure, you get it now Billie and Castiel have told you, but you won’t take my word for it._

Sam pushed aside the voice and concentrated again. He felt a pull east and spread his wings and took flight. He followed the sensation until it became strong and then slowed to look around. He was close to a group of buildings with upswept curved eaves and red tile roofs. Sam moved closer and followed the draw into one, finding himself in a small kitchen.

He knew he was in the right place at once as he heard a growling male voice that was answered by a female’s that had a hissing quality to it. He followed the voices toward a door and then paused for a moment before kicking it open and running inside to a room with a low couch and set fireplace.

There were three figures in there. One was a werewolf, its overlarge teeth, a product of the grace, fixed in a snarl. The other two were monsters Sam had only seen in books before, though the voice made sense at once. They were bakeneko, Chinese monsters that looked feline with their yellow eyes and slit pupils. Sam had read lore that they had tails, but he couldn’t see evidence of them.

They all looked at him as he burst in, and the bakenekos’ hands curled into claws. These weren't the first of Michael's monsters he'd found in Tibet, but the last had been a lone kumiho, and he'd dealt with it easily and gotten what he wanted first. 

His blade dropped into his hand, and the werewolf took a step forward.

“Do you know who I am?” Sam asked, intrigued to hear the Tibetan language flowing smoothly from his tongue.

The werewolf sneered. “You’re the other one.”

“Yes, my name is Sam. I killed your maker. Michael is dead.”

“We know,” one of the bakeneko said. “We felt it happen.”

Sam’s lips curled in a wry smile. “That simplifies things.”

He took a step forward, and the werewolf met him, teeth bared. Sam slammed his fist into its forehead, and it staggered backward, away from him. The two bakeneko watched him warily for a moment, clearly nervous, and then they seemed to come to a decision; they turned and ran.

Sam threw out a hand, and they slammed into the wall with enough force to dent the wooden paneling.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he said calmly. “I’ll deal withyou next.”

The werewolf came at Sam again, and he kicked it in the gut. It would be easier for him to go for the kill, to blast it with grace as he now had the ability and knowledge to do it, but there was something he wanted from it first.

He kicked its legs out from under it and knelt on its chest, slammed a hand at the bakeneko who were starting to move away from the wall, throwing them back hard enough that their eyes became unfocused, and then made the neat cut against the werewolf’s throat that would free what he really wanted. He’d done it twice already with the two vampires he’d found in Shigatse.

The trickle of grace poured from the wound, and Sam caught it in the vial that already held the vampires' portions. It was nothing, nowhere near enough to do anything with, but Sam had a plan for it and was going to gather it.

As Sam finished collecting the last wisp of grace and the werewolf growled and twisted beneath his knee, he heard a flutter on the air and the sense of a second angel’s presence.

“Hey, Cas,” he said, capping the bottle and then pressing his hand to the werewolf’s forehead and smiting it. He jumped up as the body became ash that collapsed beneath him.

“Can I help at all?” Castiel asked. “These two are looking energetic.”

Sam saw the bakeneko were getting to their feet and starting towards the door again. He threw out his arm, and they dropped.

“I’ve got it,” he said.

He grabbed them each by their throat and dragged them upright, then repeated the process of extracting grace while holding the other one in place until he was done with both.

Castel moved closer, and his eyes narrowed as he watched Sam collect both portions of grace and then cap the vial and tuck it into his pocket.

“What are you doing, Sam?”

Instead of answering, Sam smote both bakeneko at once, turning them to ash, and then brushed his hands on his pants. He stepped back and looked around the room, wondering what had happened to the people that lived in this house before it was taken over by Michael’s monsters. He figured they were dead.

“What are you doing with the grace?” Castiel asked.

“Oh.” Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “I… uh… I thought Jack might want it.”

The idea had first come when he’d faced the first of Michael’s Asian monsters. He’d been wary that he might not be able to kill with grace alone, as he’d never done it before, and he’d been thinking of how much slower the process would be with the monsters having the advantage of grace.

Ultimately, he’d been able to kill without a problem, but he’d wondered how much easier it would have been if they didn’t have grace. It had put him in mind of Jack, how he’d struggled the first time Sam lived through this year, and how much he would be struggling now.

“You want to give him Michael’s grace?” Castiel asked.

Sam shrugged. “I figured I should at least offer. In the year I had with Jack before, it was rough. He lost even more grace than he did when I was swapped and healed him, and it was killing him.” Castiel looked stricken, and Sam rushed on. “He won’t die this time since he didn’t lose as much grace, his illness was all about the lack of balance between his angel side and human, but it was so hard on him.”

“It is now, too,” Castiel said. “With everything that happened, I’ve not been able to help him through it as much as I should. We were training with his grace, though, and it is replenishing slowly.”

“Do you think he’d want this?” Sam asked, withdrawing the vial of grace from his pocket.

“He might. We should definitely offer it.” Castiel smiled. “I think that will mean a lot to him. He’s…” He trailed off, looking uncomfortable. 

“Struggling with the fact I look like his evil father?” Sam suggested.

Castiel bowed his head. “It is difficult for him, yes.”

“I get that. It’s…” Sam squeezed his eyes closed as he pushed down the surge of emotion he felt at the reminder of what he’d lost with Jack. “I can have something with Mom and Dean, and I’ve got you back properly which is great, but I can’t ever have Jack back. Even if I go to him and talk, there is no connection there, and he’s not going to want one. Me offering up Michael’s grace isn’t going to change that, he won’t love me again, but it means I can still do something for him.” Sam forced a smile and changed the subject to break the moment. “Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought you were staying back at the bunker.”

Castiel looked abashed. “It was a little uncomfortable there, and I needed some space, so I told them you called me and asked me to come.”

Sam huffed a laugh. “Sneaky. What was so bad there? Nick?”

“No, which is part of the problem. When I am with him, I don’t see Lucifer all the time; he’s just Nick. And then I’ll remember, and it becomes hard to look at him without seeing Lucifer. Today they were all talking about the memories Chuck created, the childhood you had with them, and it was just so… wrong.” He shook his head. “They’re going to hunt Magnus down.”

“Figures. He’s the big bad to them.” He frowned as he considered. “Chuck would have brought him back, right? He’d know they’d go after him, so he’d have Magnus there as a prop to the story.”

“I’m sure he would. He’d want the appropriate enemy for them to face, given the memory of casting the spell for Lucifer.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, he’d cover his bases.”

Castiel stared at him for a moment and then asked, “Have you found any more of Michael’s creations here?”

“None nearby. I was going to head back and get a new location from Violet. A headcount of how many he made might be good, too.”

“I’d like to show you something before you go back,” Castiel said. “Something I think might help you.”

Feeling curious and lifted by the idea of having time with Castiel before he went back to the bunker, he nodded and said, “Sure. Lead the way.” 

Castiel's wings spread, and Sam flew after him to the top of a snowy peak. The snow was so deep it came to his calves when he landed, and he looked around at more high peaks. There was one in the distance that looked ever higher than the one he stood on, and there were dots of color on it.

“Where are we?” he asked.

Castiel looked slightly smug as he answered. “This is Gangkhar Puensum, one of the only mountains on earth that is untouched by humans. Only angels have been here before.”

Sam drew in a deep breath of the icy air and exhaled it in a sigh. “This is amazing, Cas.”

“And that over there is Mount Everest,” Castiel said, pointing in the direction of the higher mountain. “I would have liked to take you there, but it’s a busy place.”

“I can see,” Sam said, fixing his eyes on the dots of color and focusing so that he could see their small movements as they inched up the mountain. “But this… They’ve really never been here before?”

“I’m not sure how many other angels have been here. I came here once shortly after the Himalayas first appeared with one of my brothers, but I’ve not been back since.”

“Who was the brother?” Sam asked.

 _Me,_ Gabriel said smugly.

“Gabriel,” Castiel said quietly.

Sam sucked in a breath, and Castiel frowned. "He was different before he left Heaven," he said. “I know you had a strained relationship with him, but he wasn’t like that once…”

Sam held up his hand. “No, I get that, I can imagine anyway, but…” Sam bit his lip and then went on. “Cas, I can hear Gabriel in my head, his voice, I mean. He talks to me. I know he's dead, and I figured it was just my mind giving me a little comfort—though why it thought _Gabriel_ would be a good choice, I don’t know—but he says things I couldn’t know. He just told me it was him who came here with you, just before you answered.”

Castiel’s eyes widened, and his lips curved in a wide smile. “He’s alive, Sam!”

“No, I saw him die. Michael stabbed him.”

“You saw him die before,” Castiel pointed out.

 _And that was a trick,_ Gabriel said with a laugh.

“So he’s really alive,” Sam breathed. “I’m actually hearing _him_ talk to me?”

“There are ways for archangels to communicate that seraphs don’t have access to. There is a supreme connection between them. If you’re hearing him speak to you, it means the connection is active. He’s rooted within you.”

“Where is he then?” Sam asked.

 _Right where you left me,_ Gabriel said. _Fighting the good fight. Interested?_

“In the other world where we left him,” Castiel said. “I didn’t know communication was possible between worlds, but then I didn’t know much about the other worlds until I visited one. What is he saying to you?”

_Hey, Cas. Still rocking the coat, I see. At least you’re consistent._

Sam grinned. “He says hello.”

“Hello, Gabriel,” Castiel said with a wide smile.

“So, he can read my mind?” Sam asked, feeling a little disturbed. “That’s kinda weird.”

“It’s not that he can read your mind exactly. It’s more that you’re connected. You could block him if you wanted; it wouldn’t be hard for an archangel to do. I don’t think Michael connected with you in the same way. You wouldn’t have been able to kill him if he could anticipate your moves. You must have been unconsciously blocking him.”

“Not at first,” Sam said thoughtfully. “When Chuck switched me with Lucifer, Michael knew. I didn’t understand how, I figured he was seeing something in me, but if he was in my head… Damn, I’m glad he’s dead.”

“Me too,” Castiel said fervently.

 _Don’t even think about blocking me, Sam,_ Gabriel warned. _You’re going to need me soon, and I’ll be pissed if I have to force my way in. And I can do that. I’m not a newbie to the archangel thing like you._

“Okay,” Sam said, speaking to them both at once. “I’ll spend some time in the library looking into this. I’m curious about it.”

“The library?” Castiel said hopefully. “You’re coming to the bunker?”

Sam shrugged. “I have to if I want to get more locations from Violet, and it would be good to see Dean and my Mom.”

Castiel shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Yes…”

“What?” Sam asked.

“They are trying to give you space,” Castiel said, “but they are all very eager to speak to you.”

“Nick included,” Sam sighed.

“Yes, him too.”

Sam nodded. "Okay, then. If that's what they need, I'll come back for a while and spend some time with them. It'll be good."

It would be hard to be around Nick, but he was denying himself what he wanted and needed by keeping his distance. There were things for him to do, dealing with Michael's monsters, especially, but he could at least spend a little time at home with his family. It would help all of them.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll do one more sweep of Tibet first, make sure I’ve got all the local monsters, then I’ll come by for a while.”

Castiel beamed. “That would mean a lot to them.”

“Me too,” Sam said.

It _would_ mean a lot to him. He wasn’t getting his real life back, no matter what Nick dreamed or remembered, so he had to make the best of what he had. Spending time with the people he loved would be good for him. And he could make his offer to Jack.

 _You sure you’re ready for this?_ Gabriel asked.

"I can do this," Sam said, reassuring himself at the same time as answering Gabriel.

He wanted it even.


	13. Chapter 13

Dean and Nick were making their way back from the garage, having gone into town to get pizza for a late lunch, after a morning spent in discussions of Magnus. Neither of them were speaking, and when Dean came to a dead stop, Nick took a few more paces before realizing Dean wasn’t with him.

He stopped and looked back. “What’s wrong?”

In answer, Dean pressed a finger to his lips.

Frowning, Nick listened and then heard what had made Dean stop. It was laughter, Mary’s laughter. It had been a while since Nick had heard it at all, and it had never been so carefree and loud as it was now.

They set off walking again, Dean taking the lead into the library and then coming to a stop again. Nick moved in front of him and then stopped, too.

Sam was sitting at the table with Castiel, Mary, and Jack. Mary’s eyes were bright with happiness, and Jack’s smile tentative, but what shocked Nick was the fact Sam was smiling, too. He was happy in a way Nick hadn’t seen since long before the seals started breaking. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his brother like this.

“Sammy,” Dean said quietly.

Sam looked up at him, and his smile grew. "Hey, Dean."

“Sam came back to speak to Violet and to spend some time with us,” Mary said, her delight obvious. 

“Awesome,” Dean said. “You hungry? We got pizza.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Not so much with the hunger these days, Dean. I’ve not had an appetite in… months.”

“Years,” Castiel corrected, shooting Sam a strange look. 

Sam looked startled for a moment, possibly because of the reminder of the fact he had no autonomy for many years. Nick was annoyed that Castiel was pointing that out. He’d have expected Castiel to have more tact than that. He wasn’t the blunt angel he’d been in the beginning, he was the one that had the most contact with Sam, and Dean said Sam was opening up to him.

“Nice, Cas,” Nick said, shooting him a pointed look.

Castiel looked confused and then frowned. “I’m sorry, Sam,” he muttered.

Sam shrugged. “It’s fine. Yeah, I guess it has been years. Sleep is a non-issue, too. I got some in the immediate aftermath of the switch when I was healing, but that didn’t last long. It was good while it lasted.”

Dean carried the beers to the table and said, "You drink, though? I _know_ Cas has done that.”

“Yeah,” Nick said, carrying over the pizza and setting them down on the table. “There was that whole liquor store binge.”

Sam smirked, and Nick guessed it was a story Castiel had told Sam when they’d been off doing whatever it was they did when they weren’t here.

Mary reached across the table, pulled the top pizza box over and flipped open the lid. “If Sam’s not eating, we might as well start before it gets cold.”

“Nothing wrong with cold pizza,” Dean said, hesitating behind the chair next to Sam and then apparently deciding to go with it, pulling it out and sitting down. “It makes a good breakfast.”

“If you’re a savage,” Nick said, sitting beside Jack, opposite Sam and Dean.

“You’re too damned fussy,” Dean said, taking a slice and then biting into it and talking around his mouthful. “I thought cold pizza was a staple of college life.”

"Yeah, so's marijuana, but I avoided that, too," Nick said.

Mary considered him a moment and then smiled and picked up a slice. 

“So, how did it go in Tibet, Sam?” Nick asked.

A strange tension crossed Sam’s face for a moment before he answered. “It was fine. I took out a couple of bakeneko, which was a first.”

“I don’t know them,” Mary said.

“They don’t usually come out of Asia,” Sam said. “Feline origin monsters. They’re big on eating entrails. They were supposed to have tails, but I didn’t see any. Not that I really looked closely. I was busy.”

“I’ll bet,” Nick said.

He’d seen the state of Sam after he’d faced the monsters outside the bunker that Michael had set up to stop him getting in, and he’d not looked good. He was fully powered now, but it must still be a hard fight.

“Was it very difficult?” Mary asked, concern in her voice.

“Not really,” Sam said. “I’ve got the hang of smiting now, so I can take them down easily enough. But then Cas showed up, and we went on a field trip." 

“I thought you called Cas,” Dean said.

“Uh, yeah, I did,” Sam said, shooting Castiel an amused glance that Nick thought there was a story behind it. “But I didn’t expect him to come so soon.” He turned his attention back to Mary. “No, it’s not hard to deal with them. I think the biggest thing is going to be finding them all. I need to know how many Michael made so I know how many to track down. I might also have to go to the Brits to find out how many the other Men of Letters have taken out.”

Mary set down the crust of her slice and asked, “What will you do when it’s all over, when there are no more to hunt?”

Sam’s face fell into lines of sadness for a moment. Castiel gave him a curious look, and then Sam said, “I guess I’ll work that out when it’s over. There’s usually something else to fight.”

“Yeah, there is," Dean sighed. "Though Chuck seemed to think we'd be okay now."

“I wouldn’t rely on _his_ reassurance,” Sam said, the words bitten off and angry.

An awkward silence fell over the room that Dean broke with an awkward laugh. “Speaking of reassurance, do you remember your Lego, Sammy?”

Sam frowned. “Lego? Uh, yeah. Why?”

“Do you remember telling Nicky that it was possible to make a bullet out of it?”

From the look on his face, Nick was pretty sure Sam had no idea what he was talking about, but he nodded and said, “Yeah, sure.”

Dean began to laugh genuinely this time. “You remember this, Nicky?”

Nick searched his memories, and then his cheeks colored. "Yeah. I remember, but we really don't need to talk about it."

“I think we do,” Mary said eagerly.

“Yeah, I want to hear it,” Jack said, grabbing another slice of pizza.

Dean winked at Nick and said, “Okay. Sam told him sneezes came out at the speed of light, so if you had something up your nose and sneezed, it would become a bullet. Nick shoved a Lego man up his nose. Problem was, he couldn’t sneeze. Sammy had him sniff up a bunch of pepper packets he’d brought back from the diner.”

“You obviously planned this well, Sam,” Mary said, her tone disapproving despite the glimmer of happiness in her eyes.

"He did," Dean said. "Anyway, Nick couldn't sneeze, and he couldn’t pull it out. I came back and found Nick digging up his nose with his finger, jamming that thing higher and higher, and Sam almost peeing himself with laughter.”

They all laughed, even Sam, though his came a little later than theirs, and it made Castiel shift uncomfortably.

“How did you get it out?” Mary asked.

Dean grinned. "Tweezers out of the first aid kit. Sam had to pin Nick down, though, since he wasn’t exactly eager for me to do it.”

“What did John say about it?” Mary asked curiously.

No one answered, and then Sam cleared his throat and said, "He was pretty mad about it when he found out. I think he took my allowance for a couple weeks. Not sure.”

Dean shot Sam a smile and said, “Yeah. It wasn’t good.”

Nick watched Sam, feeling a rush of fondness for him. John hadn’t said anything about it as it was long over by the time he’d gotten back to the motel—days later—and none of them had told him. The fact Sam was cushioning Mary from that, even though he’d not been there to see Mary’s initial shock and sadness when she’d discovered the way their childhoods changed and how absent John had been after she died, was good to see. 

“Jack!” Castiel said suddenly as if struck by an idea. “Sam has something for you.”

Jack frowned and lowered his slice. “You do?”

Sam smiled slightly. “Yeah. I figured I owed you something.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small glass vial that was swirling with grace. There wasn’t much, less than Gabriel had been able to offer when they'd tried to use his to open a rift to the other world, but there was some, and Jack's eyes fixed on it as Sam set the vial down on the table. 

“Is that yours?” Dean asked, his voice tense.

Nick was feeling uneasy, too. Chuck had offered to take Sam’s grace, but he’d said it came at a risk to Sam. If Sam was experimenting with removing it, even with Castiel’s help, it could be dangerous. And it would leave him weakened when he was facing Michael’s monsters.

“No,” Sam said. “Technically, it’s Michael’s. I took it from his creations before I killed them.” He addressed Jack, his tone careful, “You might not want it, but I figured you deserved to choose. It will power you up faster than your grace can do alone.”

“Do you want it, Jack?” Castiel prompted when Jack just continued to stare at the vial.

Jack considered a moment and then said, “If I take it, do I become Michael?”

“No,” Sam said confidently. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“Castiel said when we thought you were Lucifer but acting weird that you might have been better to us because you were affected by my grace. He said there were… feelings attached.”

Sam looked at Castiel, brow furrowed, and Nick guessed it was news to him.

“It wouldn’t turn you into Michael,” Castiel said. “This is such a small amount and should have little to no attachments. The amount Lucifer took from you, and the grace I took from the angels when I was powerless, was much more than this. Michael gave his creations the merest amount. Even if you took the grace Sam retrieved from every single monster that Michael made, it would not change who you are.”

Jack didn’t look appeased, and Sam spoke up. “You don’t have to take it, Jack. It can be tipped down a drain or stuffed in a drawer. I’m not sure if there’s a way to destroy it, but we can try that, too. Cas?”

“It can’t be destroyed,” Castiel said. “But it can be disposed of. We could visit Mount Kīlauea, Sam?”

Sam grinned. “Okay, now we’re doing that with or without the grace. I was hoping Michael would have dropped some monsters in Barbados, but seeing a volcano sounds even better.”

Nick wondered if there was a chance the rest of them could go along for one of these trips. The fact the world was open to Sam and Castiel was great; it was awesome for Sam to have something good about being an archangel to hang onto. He figured that flying together would be pretty special for them all if they could go along, and it would be a way for them to spend time with Sam.

“What do you think, Jack?” Mary asked.

“I don’t want it,” Jack said quietly, avoiding Sam’s eyes as if wary of upsetting him. “But I don’t think we should destroy it.”

“Then we stick it in a curse box,” Dean said. “We’ll add to it as Sam brings it in, and that way, we've got it if we need it for something. 

“What would we need it for?” Nick asked.

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. All I’ve seen it do is open a rift, and—”

“And we’re not doing that again,” Mary said firmly. “Bobby and his people are settled here now. We don’t need it.

Castiel and Sam exchanged a glace in which silent communication seemed to pass between them. Castiel looked uncertain, but Sam seemed almost intrigued. Nick couldn't think of a reason for Sam to go to a different world, and Bobby and his people _had_ settled.

“Speaking of rifts?” Dean said. “Sammy, when we were preparing to deal with Michael’s vessel, we found the Seal of Solomon on him. We were going to find out if it had been used to open a rift.”

“I don’t think it was,” Mary said. “The only world I can imagine Michael wanting to access is his own, and that would be to bring his angels here. Obviously, that hasn’t happened.”

Sam seemed to be focusing on something outside the room for a long moment, his brow furrowed, and then his attention came back to Mary, and he said. "Give me the seal, and I'll take it to Billie. She might be able to sense something."

“Or you could just ask her,” Castiel said, a worried note to his tone. “She would know.”

Sam shrugged. “I’ll take it with me when I go, and she can check it out.”

“Okay,” Dean said happily. “I’ll get it before you leave.”

“When will you be leaving?” Mary asked with an intensity that was probably unintentional.

Sam shrugged. “I’ve got to speak to Violet before I go, but I shouldn’t wait too long. These monsters are going to be hungry.”

Mary’s face fell. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Go when you need and come back when you can, Sammy,” Dean said. “It’s not like we’re going to run out of time to see each other.”

Sam nodded. “I will come back when I can. I’ll go see her now.”

He pushed back his chair and got to his feet. With all eyes on him, Mary’s sad, he strode from the room.

When he was gone, Mary dropped down the piece of pizza she was eating and reached for a beer instead. “You had to ask about the Seal, Dean,” she said. "Now, he's going again."

Dean scowled. “He will come back. We had something good tonight. Let’s not push him for more than he can give.”

Castiel cleared his throat and said, “Sam can hear us still, you know.”

Nick blinked. “Seriously?”

“He’s an archangel; he has much sharper senses than I do.”

“Sorry, Sam,” Mary said quietly.

“I’m sure he understands,” Castiel assured her.

Nick looked to the door, wondering if Sam was going to come back and answer, but he didn’t.

Dean handed the beers to Nick and Jack and then unscrewed the cap of his own. “Who’s up for a movie after dinner?” he asked.

They’d already discussed the fact they were going to look up the spell that had opened the door to Magnus’ place last time when they’d eaten, but Nick figured Dean was trying to create normal for Sam.

When he was gone, they could get back to work on the Magnus problem. He wasn’t going to be invested in that since he didn't think Magnus had anything to do with the spell. Let him focus on what he needed to do, and they could do what they had to. 

And then, next time he was here and they could talk, Nick would see if he could get some kind of connection that he’d not felt this time. There had been a flicker when they’d talked about the Lego incident, but there had been distance even then. Sam seemed more relaxed with Mary and Dean. He held himself back from Nick.

Hopefully, time and patience would fix that.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you MaggieMay17 for beta'ing, Ncsupnatfan and VegasGranny for pre-reading, and you all for reading.  
> Sorry for the long wait between updates without warning. I will update biweekly from now on as I've still not finished the story and I'm not yet in a position to work on it. I don't want to run out of completed chapters and leave you hanging for months for the ending.

Dean popped the trunk. Nick grabbed the bowl and bag of ingredients and carried them to the hood while Dean propped up the false bottom and stepped back.

“Load up people,” he said.

Mary and Jack came forward, and Mary took two guns. She checked the clips, said, “Witch killing?” and when Dean nodded, she handed one to Jack and tucked her own in the back of her pants.

“You’ll want angel blades, too,” Nick said.

Dean grabbed his and Nick’s gun and carried them to the hood and set Nick’s down. “You got everything?” he asked.

Nick nodded. “I think so, but I thought that last time.”

“You double-checked the spell, right? And his file?”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “No, Dean, I thought it would be fun to go in blind again. Why take all the fun out of it?”

Dean nudged his arm with a fist. “Okay, you’re pissy. What’s wrong with you? I thought you’d be happy about this. Mom is. I am.”

Nick sighed. “I am happy. I just didn’t sleep well.”

“Another nightmare?”

“No, I was just… restless.”

Dean frowned at him. “Why are you lying?”

“I’m not,” Nick said.

“Yeah, you are. What’s going on?”

Instead of answering, Nick turned as their mother approached, holding out two angel blades, and took one. "Thanks, Mom."

Mary eyed him for a moment then turned to Dean. “What’s going on?”

Nick’s face formed into an eager smile. “Nothing. Just talking about the spell. I’m sure I’ve got it right.”

Mary didn’t look appeased, but Nick tucked the blade under his arm and carried the bowl off into the trees.

“Dean…”

"I know," he said. "I'm working on it. Let's kill this dick, and then we can beat whatever's going on out of Nick." Seeing her scowl, he forced a smile and said, "We'll talk to him, Mom. Now let's go before he gets himself in there."

He grabbed his blade and gestured for Jack to follow them as they set off after Nick into the trees.

Nick was waiting for them in the clearing where they’d found Magnus’ house last time. He had the bowl in his hands, and he was mixing the contents with a pestle.

“We all ready?” he asked without looking up.

“Yeah, we should call Cas,” Mary said.

“I thought he was with Sam,” Jack said.

Mary nodded. “He is, but he said to call. It’s his revenge, too.”

Dean frowned. Castiel hadn’t seemed that invested in getting revenge at all. He’d said he wanted them to call, but Dean had thought that was more about him being there to fight with them than anything. Between Nick and Castiel’s weird behavior, Dean was starting to feel out of the loop. Added to Sam’s abrupt exit and absence in the three days since they’d seen him, he could do with a win. Killing the bastard that took the memory of his brother away was a good way to start.

“Cas, we’re about to head in,” Mary said, her eyes moving around them. “If you want to…”

“I’m here,” Castiel said, appearing beside Jack.

“How’s Sam?” Mary asked.

“He’s tracing one of Michael’s creations in Mumbai right now,” Castiel said.

“But he’s okay?” Nick asked.

Castiel's eyes settled on Nick, and there was a too-long pause before he answered, “He’s fine.”

“Okay,” Dean said. “Heads up. Last time me and Nicky were here, we were attacked by vampires straight through the door. He had a zoo of monsters he was keeping down there. We killed them all, but if he’s back here and settled again, I’m betting he’s got new stock.”

“That’s okay,” Jack said. “There’s enough of us to take them out.”

He sounded excited. It was his first time out hunting since he lost his grace, and he was eager to get going. He’d been chatty on the ride over. Dean understood it; he would be hyped if he was Jack, too. The kid needed this.

Nick held out the bowl and said, _“Ingressum domi dona mihi.”_

A smoky haze shimmered and formed into the shape of a door.

Nick set the bowl down and glanced over his shoulder. “You ready?”

“Ready,” Dean agreed.

Nick lifted his blade and walked towards the door, disappearing for a moment before Dean rushed after him. He felt a moment of dizziness, and he brought his hands up to defend himself, then skidded to a stop just inside the long hall, it's walls decorated with paintings in dark wood frames. Mary and Jack came in behind them, and they only avoided colliding by Dean and Nick dodging out of the way. Castiel came in last, seeming untroubled by the disorienting arrival.

Nick pressed his finger to his lips and pointed to his ear.

Dean listened. The last time they’d arrived, there had been some bad music playing that sounded like it had been brought straight out of a forties’ nightclub. There was silence this time, though. Dean could only hear the sounds of their breathing. 

He quirked an eyebrow at Castiel and whispered, “Anything?”

Castiel concentrated for a moment and then said, in a perfectly normal volume, “This house is filled with life.”

“Awesome,” Dean growled.

Nick seemed untroubled by the news. “Magnus?” he asked.

Castiel shook his head. "I can't sense a human here. There are many monsters, though."

Dean wasn’t reassured that Magnus wasn’t there as he didn’t think Magnus was all the way human, what with the spell he’d done to stop himself aging—and that was only the one they knew about.

“Where do we start?” Mary asked.

In answer, there was a growl, and they all span around, blades ready, as four vampires appeared at the end of the hall.

“Here we go,” Nick murmured.

Jack rushed forward, his face alight with excitement, and Nick was going after him a split-second later. Dean, Mary, and Castiel followed them, and they met the vampires at the bottom of the stairs. Dean grabbed one by the arm and yanked it away so he could get a clean drive at it. The vampire was fast, though. He shoved Dean's shoulder, sending him stumbling back a few steps, and then launched itself at him with its fangs bared.

Dean brought up his blade automatically, but before he could strike, the vampire's eyes were glowing white, and the tip of a blade was poking out of its chest.

The blade withdrew, and the vampire fell, revealing Jack looking exhilarated with the bloody angel blade in his hand. “Are you okay, Dean?” he asked, his voice breathy.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, that was pretty… Duck!”

Jack dropped, and Dean thrust forward, impaling the kitsune standing behind Jack with claws reaching for him. Her eyes glowed as she fell, and Dean hauled Jack up. He didn't seem disconcerted by his near-miss. If anything, he was even more excited. It reminded Dean of Sam's early kills, when he was so buzzed to be on the case with Dean and their Dad, and injuries hadn't seemed to bother him at all. A near miss with a werewolf’s claws that required nine stitches—and a narrowly avoided bite—had made Sam a little more guarded. But before that, he’d been hyped.

There was a roaring sound, and Dean spun to defend, but it was the death throes of some monster Dean didn't recognize being killed by Castiel's glowing hand on its forehead. Mary was panting, and her eyes were darting around. At their feet were four vampires, two with stab wounds and the others with their heads a foot away. The kitsune Dean had killed was crumpled over what Dean thought had been a vetala, and there was another mystery monster at Nick’s feet with three stab wounds in its chest.

“Tough kill, Nicky?” he asked.

Nick nodded. “It kept coming.”

Castiel shot him a sharp look, and Dean thought there was more to it than Nick said. It wouldn’t be the first time Nick had gotten carried away on a hunt, gone for second and third shots when the monster was already dead, but Dean would be surprised if that was what had happened here when there were others fighting that Nick would also want to protect.

“More monsters, Cas?” Mary asked.

“Many,” Castiel said. “But they’re not close.”

“Do we clear them all?” Jack asked.

Castiel considered a moment and then shook his head. “There is magic present.”

Dean thought that was pretty obvious since they’d arrived through a magic door, but Castiel was clearly sensing something else as he started walking down the hall with his blade held in front of him.

“Do come in,” a slightly distorted voice called over a speaker. “I have a bottle of Cheval Blanc 1947 breathing, and the glasses have been waiting for you a long time.”

“Magnus,” Nick growled, rushing along the hall.

“Nick!” Dean hissed as he rushed after him. “Wait for us. Don’t go in dumb.”

Nick ignored him, hurrying down the hall. Dean jogged to his side and kept close as they reached the turn that led them into the room where they’d been held before. He positioned himself slightly in front of Nick as they went in, which Nick combated by grabbing Dean's arm and tugging him back.

Magnus looked exactly the same as he had last time, when Dean killed him. Dean was pretty sure he was even wearing a copy of the same suit and bowtie. He was smiling widely as they all entered, Mary and Jack falling into place on either side of Nick and Dean and Castiel positioning himself slightly ahead of them.

“Well, well, well, you brought an angel,” he said. “I’ve always wanted an angel in my collection. I _wanted_ an archangel, of course, but that is perhaps a little too much to hope for. I am prepared for one, though, just in case. You never know when one might arrive. Lucifer did… And there is another...”

“You’re not getting your hands on him,” Nick growled.

Magnus frowned. “On which one?”

“Sammy,” Dean said. “You’re not getting your hands on my brother.”

Magnus laughed. “Ah, I wondered if my spell was holding. I felt something change. The time that passes after a spell is cast weakens its connection to the conjurer. Even something as potent as what I did to your brother eventually severs its bond. How did it fail? I thought it was infallible.”

“Love broke it,” Mary said darkly.

Magnus laughed again. "Love. I suppose that would work. It must have been something potent to trigger it, though. I wonder… What happened to unlock the memories?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Nick said. “The only thing that matters now is that you die.”

Magnus spread his arms, “If that’s what you’re here for, you should go ahead and take your shot.”

Before Dean could do more than reach for his gun, Nick had dropped his angel blade and drawn his own. His lips curled back in a snarl, Nick emptied four bullets into Magnus’ chest.

Dean expected Magnus to drop, but he merely looked down and then flickered and disappeared, revealing the bullet holes in the mantelpiece behind him.

“Asshole,” Nick growled. “He was just screwing with us. He must have picked up some tricks from Lucifer.”

“I did,” the crackly voice on the speakers said. “Would you like to see some more?”

Dean spun around as something touched his shoulder, and he saw Magnus standing behind him, a wide smile on his face.

Dean shot at him, but he knew it wasn’t really him as he saw the bullet pass through him without leaving a wound.

“Not me,” the voice on the speakers said. “Try again.”

Dean spun on his heel and saw five perfect copies of Magnus walking into the room and spreading apart so that they were all—him, Nick, Mary, Jack, and Castiel—facing one.

Jack stabbed out with his angel blade, driving it into the chest of the figure standing opposite him, but it had no effect.

The copy in front of Dean raised his hand, swiped the gun out of his hand, then placed his palm on Dean's forehead and chanted, _“_ _Mentem tuam ac voluntatem adsumo.”_

He heard the words repeated around him and saw in his peripheral vision that each of his family were getting the same treatment from their own Magnus.

He remembered the spell from last time, how it had driven all resistance from his mind and made him malleable and willing to obey, but this time the feeling didn’t come. He still felt hyperaware and tense.

“Everyone okay?” Nick barked.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Mom? Jack?”

“I’m fine,” Mary said.

“What was that?” Jack asked.

“Mind control,” Dean said. “I guess it’s got to be the real version of him for it to work.”

"Well done, Dean," Magnus said over the speaker. "You're forgetting someone, though. How do you think the angel is feeling?”

Dean's eyes snapped to his friend, and he saw the blank look in his eyes. "Cas, man…”

Castiel's eyes moved to him, and he tilted his head to the side, appraising him. 

“You know what to do, Castiel,” Magnus said.

Castiel nodded and threw out his hand. Dean felt a shockwave of power that slammed into his chest and drove him back against the wall. Nick, Mary, and Jack were driven back, too, weapons falling from their hands and skidding away, and Castiel was standing in the center of the room, obviously waiting for instructions.

“Castiel!” Nick shouted. “Snap the hell out of it!”

Castiel lifted his head and fixed his gaze on Nick.

“Go ahead,” Magnus said. “Kill him. You know you want to.”

Castiel stalked towards Nick, his blade drawn, and Dean shouted his name, struggling to free himself. Dean felt some give in the hold on him, and he threw himself forward, tackling Castiel to the floor and then jumping up. He stamped on Castiel’s wrist, but the angel didn’t release his grip on the blade.

Nick grabbed Castiel’s shoulders and pressed all his weight on him. Castiel didn’t struggle, he was waiting for instructions, and Magnus gave them, his voice coming from across the room as he stepped out of the shadows and picked up a glass of wine. “Go ahead, Castiel. You can kill them all.”

Dean pressed down all his weight on Castiel and bellowed to the one person he thought could help. “Sam!”

Magnus laughed. “He’s not going to hear you, Dean. This place is blocked from prayer.”

“Dean… run…” Castiel squeezed his hands into fists, and Mary and Jack fell away from the wall. They rushed to where Nick and Dean were holding Castiel down and added their weight.

Castiel bucked, and they all fell away. Castiel stood bowed over, his hands fisted on his knees, and then he looked up with fury in his eyes and shouted, “Run!”

Nick grabbed Mary, and Dean grabbed Jack, and they ran from the room and along the hall.

“Where the hell are we going?” Nick asked. “There’s no way out, remember. Not while he’s alive.”

“We just move,” Dean growled.

They came to a turning, the one the vampires had appeared from, and Nick sucked in a breath. “Okay, Mom, Jack, go upstairs,” he said. “Me and Dean have got this.”

“We have?” Dean asked. 

“I’m not leaving you alone,” Mary said furiously.

Nick yanked open a door and pushed Mary into it. “Trust me,” he said. “I know what I’m doing. Stay in there and lock the door. Barricade it. Stay quiet.”

Mary started to protest, but Nick pushed Jack in with her, took the key from the lock, and slapped it into her hand.

“Trust me!” he begged.

Mary looked torn, but she nodded and moved back so he could close the door. A moment later, they heard the lock click.

“Nicky…”

“No!” Nick snapped. “They’re not dying because of Magnus. I won’t let that happen again. I _have_ a plan.”

Dean sure as hell hoped so, since he didn’t know what to do.

“Run,” Castiel growled behind them, his footsteps slow and heavy as if he was trying to walk in a strong wind.

Dean had fought the compulsion himself, to save Nick, but Castiel seemed to be having a harder time with it. Perhaps it was because he didn't have the same connection Dean and Nick did, perhaps because Magnus' power had grown since he cast the spell on them to wipe Sam. Whatever the reason, Dean and Nick were in trouble, and Nick had just trapped Mary and Jack in a room that Castiel would be able to break open in a heartbeat."

“What are you doing, Nick?”

“Knife,” Nick snapped.

“What?”

Nick pulled open Dean's jacket, removed the switchblade from Dean's pocket, cut across his palm, and dipped his fingers in the blood. As Dean glanced over his shoulder, hearing Castiel’s staggering steps approaching, Nick daubed a sigil on the door and slapped his hand against it. Dean expected the rush of light that came with a banishing, but there was none.

“He’s blocked it from Enochian banishing,” Nick spat.

“What do we do then?” Dean asked.

Nick concentrated a moment and then dipped his fingers in the blood again and then painted another sigil on the wall. “This’ll keep him out,” he said.

“We hope,” Dean said. “Unless that magic is blocked, too.”

“Yeah,” Nick said, “we hope.” He looked back as Castiel appeared, his face showing the struggle he was facing, and said, “The zoo! Now!”

“What about it?” Dean asked, his eyes darting to the door behind which his mother and son were trapped.

“Magnus said he was prepared,” Nick said, grabbing Dean’s arm and pushing him away. “I’ll keep Cas on me, away from Mom and Jack. You find the damn zoo and shout.”

As realization clicked in Dean’s mind, he set off running, feeling torn by the fact he was leaving his family behind but knowing it was the best way to protect them.

He sprinted along the hall, taking a right turn, his eyes roving the doors he passed, wondering if any of them hid the zoo he was looking for.

“You okay, Nick?” he shouted back.

“Fine,” Nick replied, his voice a little strained. “Find it!”

Dean took another turn and then skidded to a stop as he heard a growl. He looked around, waiting for the attack, and then he realized it was coming from ahead of him. Unarmed and battling instinct, he ran towards it through a heavy door into a wide room that was a stark difference to the ones he’d seen in Magnus’ comfortable house so far. There were cages lining the walls, some housing monsters that snarled and growled, and others empty with open doors. At the end was the one Nick had sent him for. It was larger than the others, and the walls and bars were carved with sigils, some Dean recognized and others he didn't. They all looked like Enochian, though.

“I’ve got it, Nick!” he shouted.

“On my way,” Nick shouted back, and then Dean heard a thud and growl of anger.

Dean ran back to the hall in time to see Nick sprinting towards him, Castiel following at a faster pace now. He was unarmed, too, but Dean knew he could snap their necks without missing a beat.

Nick sprinted to Dean and stared back at Castiel. “Come get it, Cas,” he taunted. “You know you want to.” He narrowed his eyes. “You want to kill me, right?”

Castiel's eyes flared with grace, and he seemed to be fighting some inner battle as he forced out words that gave Dean a surge of hope. "Sam, we need you. I’m with them… Magnus… I can’t control it!”

Dean held up his hand and said, “Cas, man, hold on…” but Castiel broke into a staggering run and Dean and Nick sprinted away, Dean taking the lead to the room with the cages.

“This one,” he said.

Nick’s eyes gleamed. “Perfect. You ready?”

Castiel appeared at the door and started towards them. Nick spread his stance and stared back at him. Castiel made a sound of rage and ran towards them. Dean saw Nick’s intense concentration as he waited until Castiel was too close to be able to veer away, and then he jumped to the side. Castiel’s momentum carried him into the Cage, and Nick then slammed the door closed. He turned the key in the lock, and Castiel threw himself at the bars. 

“Quick thinking, Nicky,” Dean said.

Nick sighed with relief. “Yeah, but how the hell are we getting out?”

“Honestly,” Dean said, “I have no idea.” He paused. “Why did you think Cas wanted to kill you?”

Nick snorted. “Apart from the spell, you mean?”

“Yes,” Dean said. “You sounded pretty confident, like it was more than that, personal.”

“I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully. “Magnus said it, but there was more… It was a feeling.”

Dean looked between his brother and his friend. He couldn’t imagine any reason Castiel would want to kill Nick other than the spell that was driving him, but Castiel’s fiery eyes had fixed on Nick, and in that moment, he thought Nick was right.

Castiel threw himself at the bars again, and then his eyes flared with grace, and he seemed to force words out through pain. “Sam! We need you.”

“You think he’ll hear?” Nick asked Dean hopefully.

“I don’t know,” Dean said. “The sigils in there look pretty complex, so it might block him. But it’s angel radio, so maybe…” He raked a hand over his face. “Maybe when Cas was fighting before he might have heard.”

“I hope so,” Nick said. “Because I’ve got no more ideas about how we’re getting out of here.”

Before Dean could answer, there was a rustle behind them, and they spun to see Sam standing behind them, his tense eyes quickly becoming confused.

“Okay…” he said slowly. “What did I miss?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… They found Magnus. This was a really fun chapter to write—though also quite tough—as I got to really show Castiel’s inner strength of will in a way I've not done before. Hope it made a good read.   
> Until next time…  
> Jadey’s World xxx


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